


The Brooklyn Gazette

by gravelyhumerus



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: (its only underage drinking because because theyre american), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student Newspaper, Alternate Universe- Newspaper, Discussions of Feminism, Drinking Games, F/M, Fluff, News Editor!Amy, Newspapers, Sleepovers, Underage Drinking, Video Editor!Jake, im canadian i have no idea how american college works, this is all fluff there's not much plot, trapped inside because of weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-01 18:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13300656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravelyhumerus/pseuds/gravelyhumerus
Summary: Amy Santiago thought she’d be done with Jake Peralta when her first year politics tutorial ended but now he’s her coworker at the Brooklyn Gazette. Amy’s forced to juggle her third challenging year as an Art History major, her job as the News Editor, and her developing rivalry (relationship) with the Video Editor.





	1. 99 College Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids welcome to my college au b99 fic. i work for my university's student paper so im basically writing from experience so if you're confused by anything shoot me a comment & ill clarify. if you have any questions about this au pls hmu here or on tumblr @gravelyhumerus bc i could talk for years about these kids. 
> 
> ill be updating every sunday & wednesday

Amy Santiago walks up the front steps entering a small old house just off campus: 99 College Street. People used to actually live here before the college bought it. The creaky porch steps lead up to a heavy front door, which she must use all her weight to open. It was transformed into an office years ago. By transformed she means they just put desks instead of beds. There really wasn't that much effort, Amy had to admit.

A bell dings announcing her entrance, and a familiar large handwritten sign greets her, announcing the shoes-off rule inside the house. It smells as old as it looks, with wood floors scratchy against her Mona Lisa-patterned socks. She hoists her backpack off her back, retrieving her work-slippers. It was a long summer and she’s happy to be back.

She walks past the receptionist desk to find Gina Linetti playing on her phone. It’s a familiar sight, the girl has a canary-yellow robe over her clothes and is eating candy from the bowl on her desk. Her name tag is gold-embossed, an extravagant cursive “Gina” perched on the massive desk that takes up the right side of the room.

“Emily,” Gina greets her, incorrectly, “Before you ask: yes, I did have a good summer. I was engaged once, and I learned how to play the Glockenspiel, I also kissed a Jonas Brother. Bow down.”

“Hi Gina!” She grins, “thank you for the, er, updates. Is anyone else here?”

“Uh maybe? Is it my job to know?”

“Yes? You’re the secretary.”

“That’s why I have to sit at this desk? Damn.”

Amy shrugs, and peeps into the office on the left, finding an empty door with the name card that reads: Terry Jeffords: Production Manager. He has a stack of their old newspapers on his desk. The walls are a flaking olive colour that manages to work against the dark wood furniture. Amy smiles as she walks away, she missed him last year.

She can hear some voices coming from upstairs, she follows them into the hall, and peaks into their boardroom in case of someone lurking in the back of the house. It's empty, save for some drawings left on the whiteboard from Jake Peralta last year. She takes a few steps in and pops her head into the kitchen. She sees Scully making a sandwich, and assumes Hitchcock is there too. She avoids them and heads up the old, carpeted, spiral staircase.

“Shut up Jake,” she can hear Rosa Diaz say from her desk. Amy reaches the first landing in time to watch her throwing a crumpled up paper at the source of the earlier voice: Jake Peralta, spinning around in an office chair with a laptop in his lap. He’s in jeans and a flannel, his hair an even wilder mess of curls than the last time she saw him, four months ago.

Amy walks into the office smiling at the familiar group.

He grins at her, and puts his feet up. He’s at _her_ desk. Her pristine desk. Well, her computer is a bit dusty, but she also hasn’t been here since April. Her bulletin board is empty except her name printed on top of their logo. _Amy Santiago: News Editor,_ it says. She tries to scowl at Jake but a smile cracks her face. He doesn't have a desk, which is a fact that Amy likes waving over his head. He began to retaliate by claiming a corner of her desk as his personal foot rest. 

“They think they’re cooler than us,” He proclaims, continuing his conversation with Rosa, waving a newspaper over his head. Amy sighs.

“Back at it again with The Grapefruit, Peralta?” she asks him.

He’s talking about their competitor. Well, not actually their competitor, because The Grapefruit doesn’t actually report the truth, or reality, or anything of substance. But they do compete for readership because often the papers sit side by side on counters, in bins, in the library… really everywhere on campus. Jake has taken a personal offence to the Grapefruits staff, particularly the Vulture, as they call the editor in chief. Amy finds it funny how he's spearheaded their fight against them, having only started his job a year ago today.

Charles Boyle, a short round second year rolls his chair to join them in an impromptu circle. He runs the Lifestyle section, which means he's basically their food blogger. Gina's the one that actually writes the most about pop culture for his section.

Boyle squeals, looking between Jake and Amy and says emphatically, “Pertiago has been reunited!”

“Gross!” The two of them say in unison, Amy stepping back even though Jake’s at _her_ desk.

“Anyways, the Grapefruit has no chance this year,” Jake says, “The Brooklyn Gazette has a secret weapon: me. Those losers don’t even have a website, let alone a video section. And ya boi is the best Video Editor the Gazette has to offer.”

He fist bumps Boyle.

“You are the first one. We never had a video section before,” Amy rolls her eyes.

“It's a sign of the times! No one even reads newspapers anymore-” Jake says, and the room begins to protest that statement with various variations of ' _boo',_  but he persists and says,“- all college kids do is scroll through facebook videos during lectures that is.”

“That’s not what _I_ do during lectures but I know what you’re talking about,” Amy sighs.

“Just last week you liked that meme I tagged you in,” Jake counters pointing his finger at her as if he’s won.

“Jake, we weren’t in class last week,” Amy says.

He rolls his eyes.

“More importantly,” she changes the subject, pointing behind herself, “who’s the new Editor in Chief?”

They all look at the door that leads up a couple steps to his office. There was a little bit of chaos with the elections for the new Chief. The old one was supposed to reclaim his role this year, but last minute he was offered a real job of some kind and stepped down. (Not that the Gazette wasn’t a real job, it was, sort of, but any job that actually pays by the hour is a major step up). Amy did her research on the name she was given over the summer. She voted for him of course, as there was obviously an election, but she hadn't actually met the guy. Amy wasn’t worried because his platform that was full of great ideas like more transparency to the community, equity, training for new staff, and engagement with the community. He also had a great resume. Amy loves a good resume even more than she loves a thorough Works Cited page.  

“His name’s Raymond Holt,” Rosa says, sitting up and straightening her leather jacket, “Tall guy, stern. He's in his post-grad. I interviewed him for a retrospective on how the university’s relationship with student advocacy for Features.”

It makes sense that Rosa knows the guy as she's in charge of Features. They're always some of the best work the Gazette publishes, as she has more space to really hit home. Amy remembers the piece. It was really good.

In Amy's opinion, the last Editor in Chief one was… less than satisfactory. Santiago swears she spent the last year on edge as everyone else was left to do whatever they wanted. A bunch of people quit, leaving Santiago and Rosa picking up a lot of slack. Terry was able to help out but as he was on exchange to Japan, the time zones made it hard.

And since Amy Santiago wants to be Editor in Chief by fourth year, Amy could stand to have a good predecessor to give her a smooth transition. Maybe even a _mentor._

Last year was basically chaos. They always got the paper in on time. But according to them 'on time' was any time between 2-5am friday morning. Thursday nights were mostly office chair races, burrito-eating contests,  take-out, pranks (on her), and a whole lot of not writing and editing their paper.

Sure, Santiago is always a little on edge. She’s aware that she's about 70% anxiety, 20% competitiveness, and the rest of her was composed of a delicate mix of passion and neuroses that let her run an entire section of a small campus newspaper. She was loaded with three assistants, and up to ten contributors per week, being paid about $0.05 an hour in the form of a participation bursary in the second semester. 

“I hope he’s like McGintley. Press day was always so much fun,” Jake says.

“That’s cause you had nothing to do,” Rosa says with a scowl. Maybe it’s with her form of a sly grin but Amy still can’t read her. Amy’s still too scared to look at her for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Sometimes I had discussion board posts for my Cantonese class to hand in at midnight,” Jake raises his eyebrows in a _so there!_ Kind of way.

“Yeah but mostly you bothered _us_ while we worked!" Amy raises her voice, exasperated, "I hope the new chief will have something of a backbone, won’t let _you_ walk all over him.”

“I hope so too,” a deep voice rings out from behind her. Raymond Holt just heard everything she just said.

_Oh shit._

 


	2. Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake can't focus in his politics class, and his mind wanders to his job, and to a certain distracting ponytail in the front row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic has grown from 7 to 10 chapters in a few days so expect a bit more about these kids. 
> 
> don't forget to let me know what you think& share your ideas with me in the comments or on tumblr @gravelyhumerus

Jake Peralta shifts in his uncomfortable lecture hall chair. He puts one foot up, shoving it into the space between the chairs in front of him, and resting his other leg on top of it. He adjusts his notebook and frowns at the lack of notes he’s taken so far. “Week 2” is written in his messy handwriting on the top of the lined piece of paper, but the margins are filled with doodles rather than actual notes. He shades in the gun in the hand of John McClane, drawing movement lines around the bullet that shoots out of it. Jake squirms again, fighting off the realization that he’ll never be comfortable in his chair.

  
He’s not one to ignore the fact that he has a really bad attention span. He know he does. It’s obvious from the fact that he’s acutely aware of the drone of the fluorescent lights over head, how one somewhere behind his head to the right flickers at an uneven pace. He knows the professor is speaking but suddenly all he can focus on is the feel of the tag of his new shirt rubbing against his back.

  
He forces himself to stare at the powerpoint and copy the bullet points onto his paper. American Politics. Electoral College. Congress. Words that have more explanation attached to them if Jake could focus on some words the professor says.

  
“These include greater power in the upper house of the legislature,” the Prof says, Jake rushes to copy it down, his scrawl loose and vaguely cursive, a remnant of the terrifying Mrs. Coulter, a substitute teacher that forced his class to practice handwriting each time she taught. “A wider scope of power held by the Supreme Court, the separation of powers between the legislature and the executive, and the dominance of only two main parties.”

  
He congratulates himself for copying that all down but as soon as he does he remembers that his next video must be posted on Friday and that means he only has five more days to finish the interviews and the editing. His hand itch to pull his computer out of his bag.

  
Holt’s got him on a schedule. Damn. How much creative liberty can he have when he’s forced to produce content at least once a week on a specific day. The new chief even wants him to step up next semester and release two videos per week. That is totally unreasonable. How does Amy coordinate fourteen articles per week in her section? He knows she’s got three assistants and a mass of other students helping her out but damn.

  
Holt seems like a good dude, but damn is he hard to impress. Jake smacked out the orientation week recap by himself, editing it in one night so they were the first ones to post and all Holt said was “Thank you for your promptness.” Nothing else. No praise on the content or the style. And god does Jake have style. He makes sure all his videos have transitions that fall onto the exact millisecond of each beat. Jake has personally chosen the font and logo position so they have their own brand. Does Holt even care about the video section? Jake wonders. He’s sure that he gets the Gazette the most likes. The video he made asking frosh questions about their college got over 42k views. He’s not sure how to beat that.

  
Jake’s pretty surprised he managed to worm himself into this campus paper. He’s not even a film major and has no formal training. He’s just good with a camera and at editing due to all his time copying Die Hard with Gina as kids. He’s taking criminology. He didn’t even do well in Film 101 that he took last year. He wonders if Holt knows that.

  
Come on, Jake, he says to himself, you’re paying for this class. It’s supposed to be more important than your unpaid job.

  
Speaking of work, his eyes catch the movement of a familiar ponytail in the front row. Amy Santiago. She’s front and centre, too good to sit with him (far enough back that the professor won't call on him, but close enough that his vision isn’t filled with his peers scrolling through facebook). And he knows she knows that he’s in this class. They made eye contact in the first week. But he’s a distraction, or something. She’s typing away on her Macbook, probably able to copy every word the prof says, retaining it all. A wave of jealousy washes over him.

  
And then he finds his deep-rooted competitiveness flares up and drives him to sharply focus on the professor. Suddenly, the profs words hit home and he begins taking notes. They’re sloppy and messy and probably illegible to everyone but him.

  
He manages to focus for the next forty minutes, following the slides and not thinking of anything besides politics and the fact that if Amy Santiago can focus in class then Jake Peralta can too. He grins as he packs his notebook up into his backpack. He watches Amy leave and feels triumphant. He feels like he’s discovered a cheat code for his own brain!


	3. Studying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> amy has a midterm tomorrow and she's NOT coping well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be posting every three days from now on. also not sure if any of you noticed but the number of chapters has doubled from seven to fourteen so thats something

  Amy curses at herself. She was so excited to get into a fourth year modern feminist art seminar at the beginning of the year but now she realizes she made a grave error. Just two weeks later she finds herself scrambling to retain enough for her midterm exam the next day.

She now understands why her predecessor told her to take a lightened course load and take summer courses to spread it out. The Brooklyn Gazette is practically a full time job. Especially as the News Editor.

She’s not one to brag (she totally is), but her job is easily third most important of the whole paper. But she had to be stubborn and took five courses, signed up for the marching band, and kept her part time job in the library. And now she found herself having meetings to attend every night and more homework than she could juggle. And she went to juggling camp in seventh grade.

It was a busy weekend. Thursday was press day, and it was a tricky one. They were up till early in the morning doing finishing touches on her articles, and Holt sent her back for rewrites at least six times. She had to stay late with him and Terry to send the final copy to the printer, to catch any final mistakes before the paper goes to print. Scully and Hitchcock were technically their copy editors but they weren’t… the best. So Amy tended to handle it herself.

Her internal alarm woke her up at nine am friday morning, after next to no sleep. She spent the morning uploading all of her articles to their website, and making sure she shared them to the social medias she is supposed to manage. (She had to learn how to tweet for this very occasion). She finished just in time to go to her friday afternoon tutorial, her last class of the week. The entire weekend after that was alternating between her shifts in the library, planning her new articles, and finally starting to review the content for her first midterm.

What kind of Professor plans a midterm for the third week? That’s barely in the first quarter of the semester. This test is worth fifteen percent of her grade and on content she hasn’t even begun to grasp.  

Which goes back to the whole _cursing herself_ business.

She uses her colour-coded tab to flip back through the notes she’s taken in class. They’re neat and organized and pristine, worthy of being posted on her instagram. The more she stares at it the more it loses meaning and the more hopeless she feels.

The prof has refrained from actually telling them what to expect on the midterm, or the structure, or anything at all. It also happens to be a brand new course. So basically Amy has no idea what to expect and no way of finding out.

She’s royally fucked.

She looks down at her hand and it’s shaking, jostling her paper. The realization of her body’s visible panic makes her aware she’s freaking out. And in turn she begins freaking out more and then suddenly she’s crying and her shoulders are shaking. Her right hand automatically reaches into her hair to begin stress braiding.

She can’t _do this._ Amy brushes the tears out of her eyes, then wipes her sleeve across her face. She sits up straighter in the chair and reminds herself that she’s not alone in her dorm room. She’s in the student lounge. She can’t cry in a public space. That’s a little too low for week three.

A small noise of an opening and closing door makes her aware that someone was in the room and left, probably scared away by her pathetic sobbing. _Pull yourself together_. She rearranges her books on the dark wood desk, straightening her laptop. Once she’s done she looks around and makes sure she’s alone again before letting out another pained sob.

It’s midnight, and she can see the sleeping campus through the large window in front of the desk. This year, she was placed on the all girls floor of a co-ed res. It was nice. It’s the most historic residence on campus, as seen by the beige walls that surround her and the radiator that heats the air near her feet. She’s glad the floor wasn’t a party floor, but the silence was getting to her. Due to the presence of a lot of studious girls, and the lack of the deep male voices, it’s quieter than the rest of the building. She usually works in her room, so she’s used to that space, but Kylie has an interview in the morning and Amy didn’t want to disturb her sleep. She puts on some music to balance out the eerie silence.

She briefly considers making some tea at the kitchenette on the other side of the room, or moving to the couches to be a little more comfortable while she studies but she decides that is definitely procrastinating. So she pulls her blanket tighter around her shoulders and begins rereading the chapter on the legacy of salons on parisian modernism. Her tears have slowed down, allowing her to wipe her snotty face on her shirt again and she drinks some water to feel a little bit better. Hydration is key.

She calms a bit more as she reads more and more out of the textbooks. She understands textbooks. They have indexes and chapters and definitions and citations. They make sense, and not many things do. Maybe if she reads over the chapters enough she’ll be ready for this mystery test.

Another few minutes elapsed and she hears the door open behind her, but this time the person remains for more than a second, as Amy’s cry-studying apparently doesn’t scare them off.

The person clears their voice, and she spins. Jake Peralta is pulling up a chair to sit next to her at the desk. She’s too stunned to react to his presence so she just stares. He hands her a hot drink and starts unpacking a plastic bag before she even has a chance to say anything. She automatically accepts the drink in her hands, her body moving before her brain has a chance to catch up

“So Santiago,” he says, his voice chipper and warm. “I hope you like mint tea.  I googled it and apparently it has stress relieving properties. And no caffeine cause I know it makes you a bit jittery this late at night. Take a sip, I put one pack of sugar and no milk in it because I don’t really take you to be a super sugary kinda person.”

“Peralta,” she says, “what are you doing here? You don’t even live on this floor.”

He lives one floor up, and always claims to be able to hear her snore from there.

“You guys actually have soap in your bathrooms,” Jake shrugs, “And I came in here to see if there was any food I could steal from the fridge and saw you, uh-”

“Cry-studying,” Amy supplies, taking a sip of the tea that he placed in her hands. He was right, the tea was helping. There’s something about the warmth that really feels calm. She breathes in the minty scent, glad that she could still breathe through her nose after crying.  

“Yeah,” he says, “And so I headed down to the snack bar and picked up some comfort food. How can you possibly already look like Finals-Santiago? It’s barely week three?”

Amy snorts, still a little too stunned to explain herself.

“I brought you some chips and some candy, I don’t really know what you like because I only ever see you eating caf food or vegetables or whatever. So I got you a bit of everything,” he says, emptying the bag to spread a collection of junk food on the table, moving her textbook to the side to make more room. “Whatever you don’t eat, I’ll be happy to.”

“I have a midterm tomorrow,” she offers as an explanation. She sniffles and he hands her a tissue (he really did think of everything).

“Damn that’s shitty,” his brown eyes widen with sympathy, “Do you have any flash cards? I could quiz you?”

Amy grins, he’s really the sweetest. She’s glad he isn’t being competitive or snapchatting their group chat a picture of how gross she is or anything mean. She bites into a chocolate bar and as it melts on her tongue. It all stops feeling like the end of the world. Jake settles back into his chair, eating some of the potato chips he brought her, taking her textbook from her and reading the cover.

“‘Contemporary Art Through the Intersectional Feminist Lens’? Cool,” he says, skimming the page she left it open to. “Okay here’s one, let’s see if you know what the definition of contact zones is?”

Amy straightens, rising to the challenge, she thinks about his question. She was just reading about this before he showed up.

“Contact zones are where people meet and exchange information,” she begins, “It’s where different groups come together, coming from different backgrounds and interact. Usually in the form of a intellectual exchange. Markers of a contact zone are usually bigger cities where people of different class, social status, and experiences meet.”

“Like New York?” Jake asks her.

“Yes,” she replies, “Innovation and change happens in contact zones.”

“That’s kinda cool,” he says.

“But it’s not as utopic as it sounds, because we must be aware of dramatic balances of power in the form of colonialism and racism and classism that permeates the areas involved in contact zones.”

“Damn Santiago,” he flips through the textbook as she speaks, “Why are you stressed? You sound like you’re reading straight from the textbook.”

“I only started studying yesterday.”

“But that’s two whole days of studying!” He exclaims, “More than I spent on last semesters exams.”

“Total?”

Jake makes a face.

Amy laughs.

 

For the next couple hours, Jake stays in the student lounge, quizzing her and eating junk food.  He lets her teach him all about modernism and feminist criticism. She begins to think that he’s right, because the more the night goes on the more she realizes she understands the topics.

At around three am Jake dramatically closes her textbook and tosses the crumpled up chip bag basketball-style into the garbage. It falls inside the bin and he lets out a whoop and raises his hand for a high five, which she meets with her own hand enthusiastically.

“It’s time for you to go to bed,” he announces.

“But we’ve barely started!”

“‘ _But We’ve Barely Started_ ’ title of your sex tape.”

“Seriously Peralta,” Amy frowns, a little too sleepy to not laugh at that. She lets out a giggle, and Jake starts laughing too. After a few moments Amy lightly punches him on the shoulder, to which Jake reacts with over exaggerated agony.

“Ames, you have a test tomorrow. Sleep is important. Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

He grabs her hands and makes her stand up. He packs up his junk food and she puts her books and laptop back into her backpack. When they go to leave the room Jake makes a show of opening the door for her. She scoffs at his chivalry.

“Thank you, Jake,” she says sincerely, leaning against her door before slipping into her room for the night. “It means a lot.”


	4. Editorial Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Editorial (noun.)  
> An editorial is defined as a statement of opinion by a magazine or newspaper editor or a television or radio station. An example of an editorial is an article written by the editor of a newspaper detailing their opinion on something.
> 
> Sometimes they get a bit off topic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I discovered that I can barely wait to post a new chapter so I'm going to try a every two day posting schedule from now on

Jake munches on some chocolate covered almonds. He likes them because they make him feel healthy, cause, you know, almonds. They have protein or something. Maybe vitamins. Better than just chocolate like he had last time. He needs brain food to get through Editorial Board.

He doesn't have anything against ed board. It's just a two hour meeting once or twice a week. He has a lot of opinions on current events so he’s always down for it. He enjoys the conversation, marvelling at how informed they all are on a plethora of topical issues. Amy's always on the speakers list, providing points and counterpoints on more topics than Jake even feels qualified to think about. Her boundless intelligence definitely turns him on.

He offers her some of his snacks near half way through the meeting, and she looks a bit surprised before gingerly accepting a few. She's  holding their little plastic trophy in her hands, turning it over as she listens to someone speak. She got section head, an award Holt gives out for the mvp of the week. She deserves it. 

Amy's got her classic pant suit going, making her look more like a business major than an art history major. Jake doesn't think he'd like her if she was a business major, since being one inherently makes you not likeable. They're all rich and obnoxious and glare at him when he's in line for Starbucks because it's in their building. 

They're on their second article of the week now. It was written by Holts least favourite columnist Madeline Wuntch, who they’ve also taken on as their arch nemesis. The number of editorials they’ve written on her articles should be against the rules. But having an opposing opinion on the crap she puts out is not hard at all. She's written articles so bad that they have hypothesized that her editors only publish them for the clickbait. 

Despite their tendency of ripping apart Wuntch, Holt isn't the one who chooses the articles they write about. They are all able to propose articles on the editorials section of their group chat, and the editorials editor is tasked with narrowing the topics down. Then the board, which is made up of all the editors and assistants are able to vote on their top two articles for them to discuss. 

Jake hasn’t had the guts to actually propose an article. He still feels super unqualified to be on this board when surrounded by his coworkers. He’ll send them articles, but funny ones to the conversational channel. One time he caught a typo in the National Post which got him a “Hahaha!” from Amy. He always feels like the articles he thinks of sending aren’t worth their time. 

Despite it not being in the thesis of Wuntch’s article, they get to discussing social media. Jake is getting a bit fired up because they start hating on it in the way newsies always do. Amy's going on about the death of print media and all that jazz. He gets their disdain, as for the first time in their paper’s long history, the editors are completely discouraged from pursuing a job in press. Jake never wanted to work for a newspaper in the first place so he isn’t broken up by the death of the media. 

“You have to admit that no one even reads anymore, Ames,” Jake says. Leaning over on the couch to face her. Even though he understands her perspective on the whole thing, it’s still really fun riling her up.

“Are you telling me that the human race has become illiterate?” She retorts, raising her voice even though he’s right next to each other. Jake grins, he knows this gets to her.

“No one  _ wants _ to read.”

She scoffs. 

“Video is the way to go!  _ Visual _ articles. It’s great. Everyone does it. Buzzfeed, NowThis, even like… the news does it. Prime Example: me.”

“Just because you’re illiterate doesn’t mean you get to drag us down with you.”

“I'm not illiterate, some of my videos have captions!”

“The  _ News  _ sections gets us the most readers overall, Jake. No one even cares what the juggling club is up to!,” Amy retorts, referencing a video he put out about said club. He’s hurt. Though it didn’t even get three thousand views, he enjoyed filming them. He really made a connection with the old guy who runs it. Amy continues: “The student population cares about important things. Stuff that affects them.”

“Like student government?” Jake asks incredulous.

“Exactly!” Amy smiles, but Jake gives her a funny look, he was joking about student government. People hate student politicians even more than they hate the Gazette. Which is saying something because they're not the most well liked organization. There's been some issues with them revealing some hazing that's gone on in certain organizations which has made them a lot of enemies. 

“Wanna bet on it?” He drawls. “Who gets the website more traffic: news or video?”

“What are the terms?”

“Combined total of facebook, and website. Likes, comments, views. Semester or year, up to you.”

“Semester.”

“Deal.”

They shake on it.

“Peralta,” Holt says, exhibiting as much emotion as he does on any given day, so none. “If you have something to say please raise your hand and I will add you to the speakers list. Santiago, please do not encourage him.”

Amy looks furious, she has never been in trouble for speaking outside her turn. Though being reprimanded from Holt stings, the fact that he brought Amy down with him lessens the blow a little with some mirth.  Amy seems ready to defend herself but Holt ignores her, gesturing to their opinions editor, asking, “do you have all you need?”

Amy’s mouth gapes as Holt recieves a nod in response.

“And Peralta,” he says, “since you think student government isn't something to care about I'd like you to work with Santiago. There's a meeting tonight and maybe The Gazette will cover it. With a video.”

Jake is stunned.

“Dismissed.”

And with that they editorial board files out of the room, beginning their own conversations and making plans amongst themselves. Jake and Amy are left stunned, staring at each other on their shared couch. 

He’s working with Amy. For a video. About student government. Together. Tonight. So much for his Die Hard marathon. 

This is going to be  _ the worst.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @gravelyhumerus


	5. Body Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> student council is long, jake is bored and amy is distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to gaby who commented asking me to make my chapters longer. thanks to you i went back and edited this chapter and doubled the word count. gaby is the true mvp of this fic.

Why did Jake Peralta have to ruin everything for her? She had the night off, ready to curl up alone with a good book and some hot cocoa. Maybe she and Kylie would watch a movie together or something. She had been begging Amy to watch Magic Mike with her for a couple weeks now (she was not sure what the plot was about, but she hoped it was about a magician). Amy had finished all of her work in anticipation for a night of doing nothing.

Doing nothing was a rarity in her life. She works hard in every thing she does and has a perfectly balanced schedule that usually leaves her with enough time to eat and sleep on a good day. Balancing a part time job, the marching band, and being the news section head at the gazette was a task onto itself. So a night off was basically a miracle.

But of course now she was covering what felt like the longest student government meeting of her life. She swears they weren't this long back when she regularly covered them in first year, but as she moved up the ladder in the paper she could delegate the task to her assistants, staff writers, and contributors. Except for tonight. When she was stuck here. 

Maybe the novelty has worn off, maybe the corruption has hardened her. Who knows? But now she’s really not enthused by any of the student politicians standing before her. Sure, they’re certainly doing important work, running a lot of the services and clubs that make an impact on the school, but their policies, and, frankly, personalities need some work. While a voice in her head screams for her to pay attention to the job at hand, an equal one rejects that outright.

See, it was hard to focus when Jake Peralta is next to her, asking an infinite amount of questions. He has his camera in his hands, taking clips periodically. Neither of them are quite sure what they’re supposed to make together, because Holt informed them that they would “Figure it out.” The vague statement that truly set Amy on edge.

There was only so much footage that Jake deems essential enough to film. Which means that Focused Filming Jake was few and far between. That left Amy with Bored In Class Jake, who she actively avoids in class, and wishes she could avoid here. That Jake brings everyone down with him. 

“What is even going on right now?” He asks, fiddling with his camera settings. “Who has that guy been talking for so long about winter snow removal plans? Why is that a students job? I don't get it. It's not going to snow for  _ months. _ ”

Amy shushes him and he shuts up. She's a pretty good shusher. She prides herself on that. She’s terrified someone is going to shush  _ her _ so she’s preemptive with her sushing, and speaks at a low volume herself. The last thing she needs is to face a reality of The Gazette being asked to leave a student council meeting. She wouldn’t want to face Holt after that.

“That student is our liaison with physical plant services. And please be quiet.”

She's recording the whole thing, as per protocol, and marks down times of important quotes so that she can write them in her article. There aren't that many because it's not an important meeting. She read the schedule and the juiciest topic will be the allocation of a fund for environmental activism. Front-page worthy. 

Amy is partially distracted by how completely ignorant Jake is about their student government. He just informed her that this is the longest he's had to think about student politics, ever. 

“So you never read about any of the candidates before you voted? Wait. Did you even vote?” she asks him.

“I didn't do  _ research _ ,” he replies, nonchalant. “I just read their little bios on the website and picked the one who sounded better. I only voted for the free Coffee House hot drink.”

“Jake, you work at the Coffee House. Don’t you get drinks for free anyways?”

“Yup.”

So basically her evening continued with a constant stream of questions that could have been answered if he had spent any time reading about the students that were supposed to represent him and the organizations that are responsible for the college they both attend. He could just read the college’s website. Or her articles. Does Jake even read the newspaper he works for?

“Psst Amy,” Jake says in mock whisper. “Amy!”

“What is it?”

“We never came up with consequences for our bet,” he says. 

“You must be the worst person to sit next to in class, you're incorrigible.”

“I'm gonna take that as a compliment,” he grins. 

The moderator announces that the dean is next on the speakers list. Amy knew this was coming so she has her own materials ready to take notes but this seems to surprise Jake, who sits up straight and raises his camera to his eyes quickly. 

Amy marvels he transforms into a person so unlike himself. Filming Jake is focused and attentive. And silent. He still manages to be distracting to her but not in an annoying intending-to-distract-her way. She’s caught up in the way his hands move so expertly, adjusting focus, checking settings and holding the camera with a strong knowledge and accuracy. She's distracted by his hands themselves. They are large, and have short bitten nails, a representation of his habit of gnawing on his fingers while lost in thought. She notices a scar along the inside of his index finger, Amy wonders where he could have gotten it from.

She lets her eyes graze along his forearms and marvels at his tense muscles that support the weight of the DSLR camera. His face is expressive, invested in his subject matter, frowning when something doesn't look right, and adjusting something until he looks satisfied. He bites his lip when he works. He's not even doing anything besides his job and she still can't focus on hers. 

The dean drones on. As much as Amy used to be enthused by the man's presence and the ability to interview him, but he has transformed him into another annoying man in power. His term is almost up anyways, and soon she’ll have to worry about the next one instead.. 

The meeting ends after the dean’s address. Amy’s glad she was recording because all of his comments certainly went straight over her head. She tunes back into reality and gets ready to depart. Since the meeting was next to irrelevant, Amy really has no further questions so she's able to leave. For a more important meeting she would often corner the various student politicians and college representatives to ask follow up questions or arrange an interview time. 

It’s certainly the calm before the storm of elections right now, and they really haven’t covered anything important at all. Amy knew for a fact that soon she would be covering the elections for their senate, undergraduate society, and graduate society and her life will soon be a living hell. It's her job to inform an incredibly apathetic student population about when they will be voting and who they will be voting for.

Holt was really punishing them by making them sit through this meeting. He knew it would be useless. The video will flop. Her article will flop. It was nothing. 

She has to wait because though she only has to put her recorder and notebook away, Jake must pack up all of his camera equipment. He first shuts down his camera, sharply retracting the lens and shutting it off. He replaces the lens cap, and returns it to his bag. Again it's thrilling to see him with so much diligence, meticulously caring for each task.. It turns her on a little. 

“Look, Amy,” he says to her as they walk out of the room, into the hallway of the student centre. “It was possible, that maybe I screwed up a little by getting us stuck here. I just get so excited that I get wrapped up in my own thing and forget about consequences and shit. Y’know?”

“Hey I get it,” Amy says, “and I didn't stop us. Holt’s punishing both of us. For our bet.”

She pauses and thinks about their whole conversation, and the anger she felt as he provoked her with a competition between their two sections. 

“But you don't have to be such a butthead about my section,” she mutters. 

There's a pause as he stares at her a second.

“What?” She asks him.

“I just can't believe you'd call me a butthead,” he replies, deadpan. She knows he's messing with her, and shoves his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

“Harsh.”

+

They head back to their office, which is only a few minutes walk from the student centre. Amy notices how the air is slightly colder than usual. Summer is beginning to turn into fall, and the leaves are looking little less green. Amy has gotten into the swing of the semester, she’s enjoying the steady rhythm of her days. Some are more challenging than others (today), but overall it’s going pretty well. Something’s changed this year and she isn’t sure what. 

Entering the Gazette House they’re confronted by Charles Boyle. He’s sprinting down the stairs, tripping over some shoes before hugging them tightly, pushing their shoulders together before letting them go. He grins as he looks at the two of them. 

“Jake, Amy, you have just saved my life,” he grins giving them another squeeze before stepping back. He’s bouncing on the spot with excitement. The two of them look at him for a second before reacting.

“Uh… how?” Amy asks, fearful of the response. 

“I need models and no one else is at the house and Holt wants me to run them by him for tomorrow morning,” Boyle says, “And you’ll be perfect for it.”

“What’s the article?” Jake asks, pulling the laces on his sneakers, and yanking them off. Boyle claps his hands for a second before beckoning for them to follow him into the house. 

“It’s this piece my staff writer made,” Boyle explains, “He’s a real gem, a Psych ‘19. You know that series on applied psychology for your daily life? It’s for that.”

“I guess I’m in,” Jake says, shrugging. Amy remembers reading some of the earlier ones so she nods. They follow Charles into the house. Jake drops his stuff in their board room on the way, and Amy does the same with her backpack. The back room in which he has a small table and two chairs set up, with some of their lighting equipment set up, and a camera on a tripod. 

None of this is really out of the norm, Amy notes. They always need a visual for each article they post, and sometimes it’s more important for some articles than others. Her coverage of the student council meeting could have just had one of their stock images of the student life centre if Holt hadn’t asked Jake to provide a video component. 

They sit down stiffly on the chairs, not really sure what Charles wants from them. Knowing him, they have to accommodate his particular vision. Amy has certainly been his model before, and it always involves 

“This is great, guys,” Charles says, stepping behind the camera, “When Gina and Rosa found out the topic they refused to model, you’re my last hope besides playing both people myself and using some clever photoshop.”

If they backed out, how bad could the article be? They’ve all modelled for weird and uncomfortable articles before, it’s part of their job. 

“Wait, what exactly  _ is _ the topic,” Amy asks.

“Body language of two people who are sexaully attracted to each other,” Charles replies enthusiastic, completely oblivious of the implications of that topic.

Amy’s stomach flops.

“You two are perfect for it!”

She can feels Jakes eyes on her as she stares in abject horror at Boyle as he says that.  _ What does he mean about being perfect for the role? They’re friends! Coworkers! Sexual attraction? Amy? Jake? No! _ She turns to Jake who’s looking at her with a strange expression on his face, clearing his throat awkwardly. She’s glad he’s as awkward as her, because she can see his ears getting red and him tugging at his collar at the same time as she can feel her own face blush. She's not alone is finding this weird. 

“Okay, Jake,” Charles moves on, ignoring their reactions about the whole thing. “I need you to move to the edge of your seat, spread your knees, put your feet shoulder width apart-” 

Jake looks a little panicked as he’s getting all of these instructions at once, shuffling awkwardly as he assumes the position Charles is instructing him to.

“- and put your hands up as if you’re fixing your top button. Yes. Perfect. Now bite your lip if you can -”

Jake does but it looks a little awkward, Amy begins to giggle.

“- no not like that. Like you do when you look at Amy normally. Yes. Like that.”

Jake is now biting his lip in a decidedly not awkward way, looking at her with humour in his eyes as Charles walks up to him and adjusts various parts of his body language.

Amy, still uninstructed watches as Charles moves Jake’s hand from his shirt to his head, performing the familiar gesture of running his fingers through his hair. The more Jake relaxes into the position does he look more and more familiar. He becomes less like an uncomfortable model and more like himself. 

“Now Amy,” Charles turns to her and says, “Lean forward, elbows on the table. One hand reaching towards Jake as if you were going to lovingly touch his arm. With your other hand brush your hair, no, maybe curl it around your finger? That’s better.”

Amy finds herself awkwardly looking at Jake as she’s positioned into exhibiting sexual attraction. She isn’t sure how she feels about this. She just went from calling the guy a butthead because of their fight, to spreading her legs for him for a photoshoot. 

See, it’s not a bad experience. It’s kinda weird how Charles stares at them, and she’s still not over how he thinks they’re going to get married one day, and she can totally see why Gina and Rosa would back out. But it’s fine. Amy and Jake are chill. They’re professionals.

“Okay, hold that while I take the pictures,” he instructs them. 

It doesn’t last long after that, a few photos and a some modifications to their positions and to the lighting happens before Boyle is satisfied. The pose is not uncomfortable, and it’s obviously not explicit, but there’s something about it that feels quite intimate. Jake and Amy must lock eyes for the full effect, and Amy is reminded of an experiment she read about where groups of people were forced to make eye contact for three hours to see the effects. The result had something to do with the brain chemistry of empathy. In that moment, when Amy stares at Jake, she reminds herself to look up that article because something’s happened in these past couple minutes. She can’t put her finger on what exactly, but she’s sure those scientists would be interested in it.

The room is next to silent, the only noise is the road outside and the click of the camera shutter. Amy is entranced by Jake’s face, so close to hers for more time than she’s ever experienced. She is entranced by his smooth skin, the small freckle on his right cheek, and the stubble along his jaw. Her eyes trace as the waves of his face fall onto his face, and his eyes shine golden brown in the light, his long lashes fluttering at her gaze. His lips are red with the pressure of his teeth biting on them for so long. It’s a subtle thing, just pulling the lip between his teeth, nothing exaggerated, but sending a clear message nonetheless.  So with the final click of the camera they’re captured, forever, looking like they’re on a very good date with a happy ending. 

As soon as Charles is done Amy panics, they break eye contact and she bolts out of the room, grabbing her bag. She doesn’t offer to help clean up. Jake is right behind her doing the same thing. Their eyes do not meet again. They both leave through the front door at the same time. 

“Bye,” Amy almost yells before taking off in the opposite direction than him. 

She only realizes she’s going the wrong way after a block of speed walking. She and Jake live in the same building. They should have walked together. Amy is an idiot. 

Amy doesn’t falter at this realization, walking with fake confidence down this street, internally trying to fix her mistake before wandering into a random part of Brooklyn. She circles back, taking a couple side streets before making it back to College Street. She prays that she doesn’t run into Jake on her way back to residence. Her mind is running a mile a minute thinking about Jake and attraction and body language and sex. 


	6. 8:30am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jakes experience with his 8:30am lecture, the library, and Amy.

Things Jake Peralta Has Learned From His Thursday Morning At 8:30am Class:

  1. While the sun is up when he wakes up for the first couple weeks, that is not always the case. Eventually he begins waking up disoriented and squinting into his dark, dark room.
  2. The sun is a more important part of his life than he ever knew. He learns to value it.
  3. His body aches from waking up this early. Jake can literally feel it in his bones as he sits on the side of the bed. He tries to rub his neck and back, to maybe release some tension but nothing helps. He begins to wonder if it is really his soul that aches.
  4. He hasn’t had an 8:30 since high school when his classes began at 8:25 sharp each morning. He finally understands why he was depressed in high school. 
  5. No one has snapchat stories up to watch in the morning. Jake watched them all the night before and no one’s awake to post more. Buzzfeed often hasn’t even posted theirs. (Which is inexcusable because they probably have enough employees in different time zones to allow Jake to wake up to new listicles and memes at 7am). He doesn’t know what to do with himself while he eats his frootloops. He has resigned to checking twitter or the news for his content-starved morning brain. 
  6. There’s this girl on his floor that hates him so much that she doesn’t sit at their common dining room table with him. She makes her breakfast, usually also cereal but she puts almond milk into it instead of Jake’s favourite orange soda. She stands at the counter and eats. He has not learned whether she eats at the table for any other meal because their schedules do not align enough to let him see her other than when she aggressively ignores his existence in the morning. He does not know the reason for her avoidance of him and never will. 
  7. He needs to have clothes laid out for himself in the morning or he stands, completely zoned out, staring at his sock drawer for up to twenty minutes. 
  8. Zoning out is very common when it’s this early in the morning. His brain does not flick rapidly from one topic to the other as it usually does, but stays fixed. It doesn’t matter if it is staring out his window at the tree or reading a long long article on something he doesn’t fully understand while still wrapped in his comforter.
  9. Jake is so so cold. Most mornings he forgoes his navy blue fuzzy robe because like, its only October, it shouldn’t be cold. But he is. So cold. Shivering naked in his room as he frantically pulls on layers kinda cold. Drink coffee for the warmth not caffeine kinda cold. Barely able to pry himself out of bed kinda cold.
  10. Naps in lecture are inevitable. No matter how much caffeine he pumps into his system, half way through his lecture he feels the warm, welcome embrace of sleep. His class also happens to be in the lecture hall with dim lights, and the comfiest chairs on campus. Many a time he wakes up with his head resting on his hand, as his classmates head out for the halftime break.
  11. His class is full of either super invested people or people who also sleep with him, but overall he’s not sure if even half the class attends lectures. He’s not sure if he wants to attend lectures or not. 
  12. He often dreams of all the amazing food he wants to make himself for breakfast. When he wakes up he does not make any of it. Ever.
  13. The night before he always gets thirty videos deep in vine compilations. Always. Sometimes his brain justifies it as research for his job at the Gazette, but that’s bullshit. Though, he will never not laugh at that woman who launches the jug of milk when startled by the car horn.
  14. He should go to bed earlier to prepare but each time he finds himself staying up way too late. He's always trying to function on too little sleep. 
  15. Amy Santiago also has an 8:30am class on Thursday. 
  16. If he times it right, he and Amy can walk to class together.



 

This morning, Jake finishes up in the eating area, washing his cereal bowl and giving counter-girl a salute before hoisting his backpack onto his back and trudging out into the hall. It’s still warm enough out that he’s just wearing a tshirt and jeans, with a pair of scuffed and torn vans that he set out the night before. It’s about 7:58 which means if he enters the stairwell in one minute he will run into Amy.

  
He’s not stalking her, if that’s what you’re wondering. If he wanted to stalk her he would do a bit more than be on time for his Friday morning class, because she’s not particularly secretive about her schedule, She often proclaims her busyness to the group when asked for favours. He could totally follow her around if he was a weirdo or something. He’s not. He’s just timing his departure to correlate with his friend. That’s all. No biggie.

  
He leans against the door and waits for the noise of someone descending the stairs, the sound of their feet hitting the steps echoing in the stairwell. Jake checks the time on his phone. 7:59. He just needs…. To…. open the door…. Just…. About…. NOW!”

  
“No mamá,” he hears as he watches Amy walk down the stairs. “No tengo novio, todavía.”

  
He’s not sure what she means. Jake never paid attention in Spanish class in high school. He wants to ask her but as soon as she sees him she balks and quietly hangs up the phone. She says goodbye very quickly and glares at him as she slips her phone into her sweater pocket.

  
“Hola, Amy,” Jake says, pronouncing the ‘h’ very strongly, and Amy cringes then laughs at his feeble attempts at Spanish.

  
“Hi, Peralta,” she replies, “Why do I always run into you here?”

  
“I dunno, kismet?”

  
She laughs and they begin to walk together out of their residence.

  
“I’ve never seen you go early to a class in your entire life. You’re late to Pols even more than that stoner that sits in the front with me is.”

  
“Can’t I be super passionate about Global Development?” He asks, mock-outraged.

  
Amy doesn’t believe him. It doesn’t help that he has not mentioned anything positive about this class. In his defence, he doesn’t talk positive about any of his classes. He finds complaining for humour to be part of his personal brand.. Though class itself is marginally part of why he actually goes. The prof is pretty engaging and he doesn’t mind going to this class.

  
But he certainly would have skipped a lot more classes than he does if he couldn’t walk with Amy. He doesn’t get to see her outside The Gazette that often so he’s finding himself going more and more out of his way to see her. It’s not that he doesn’t see enough of her, but work Amy was so intense and worried about Holt. Jake is curious about what she’s like outside that environment.

  
On their way to class they pop into the Coffee House, the best place on campus for coffee, tea, baked goods, and it also happens to employ him. Which has its perks besides paying his bills: free drinks. Maybe that’s why Amy actually lets him walk with her to class. Probably not, since each time she refuses to let him pay.

  
“Amy, jesus, I’m not actually paying anything it’s literally part of my job!” He says for what’s probably the billionth time. She wants to be independant and buy her own coffee with two milks and one sugar but she doesn’t need to because he gets it for free. He’s not even buying it. She doesn’t need to. But the battle rages on.

  
He’s been working at the Coffee House since first year. He was super unqualified but he thinks he interviewed well. He fits in with the vibe here: chill, easy going, works well under pressure. The whole college gets their caffeine fix here each day. It’s open from 7am till 11pm, every day but friday and saturday. He enjoys his job there, he just shows up, they give him a shirt and a hat and he puts cream cheese on bagels for a few hours. They have so many employees so that they can give most of them super flexible schedules.

  
He sees Amy there all the time, even when he isn’t following her to class. She seems to do her readings there, sitting at one of their long tables with her laptop and her textbooks. She often works for hours on whatever, her attention barely wavering from her book. Sometimes he catches her looking at him while he works, and he always sends her a grin in exchange. It’s nice.

  
He got a lot of work done there too, as much of his editing could be done with the comforting drone of the students around him, and the comfy couches by the windows looking out onto campus. It certainly helped that he could often join Amy at her table.  
The place he should have expected to see Amy spending a lot of time in was the library. Obviously Amy would be a fan. Libraries have a lot of books, which she liked, quiet spaces, which she always seemed to want, shushing, which she was really good at. It was peak-Amy.

  
For Jake, the library was reserved for using the printers when his broke at home. He mostly saw it over snapchat as his peers studied for exams. He loved mocking their proud ‘studying hard’ snaps with the geofilter slapped on top of their books or whatever. He felt that they wanted other people to think they were studying more than they were actually studying.

The library makes him anxious with how silent it is and how stressed everyone around him is. He rather work in the Coffee House before or after his shifts. That’s how he works, with a good amount of ambient noise and the possibility of running into someone he knows so they could distract him. It’s perfect. The library is not.

  
His class takes him into the library, as the professor decided that they’re going to use class time to introduce some research methods. She gives them a really boring powerpoint in class about the library’s search features, and makes them haul their asses down the street into the library to tour the section where related texts are located.

  
Listening to the drone of the professor discussing MLA citation is mind numbing. He knows he should pay some attention, because eventually she’ll get to the actual lesson, but right now he looks around the library, searching for something to engage him. He’s standing too close to the professor to play on his phone so he searches for other options.

  
And then he sees Amy. She’s at the very end of the row he’s stuck in. She’s wearing one of those librarian lanyards that say, ‘how can I help you?’ or something and she’s shelving books. She’s wearing the oversized maroon sweater that she drowns in, the hem of it falling lower than her butt, with leggings and running shoes underneath. All practical and utilitarian but she looks so cute. She turns a corner and disappears from his sight, moving on to shelve more of the books from her pile and he doesn’t see her for the rest of the time he’s stuck in the library.

  
But the brief glimpse of her has sparked the understanding that Amy works in the library, a fact that he had never knew before. He decides that annoying her is the best thing he can do with this information.

  
+

  
Suddenly Jake Peralta is finding more and more reasons to show up in the library. He doesn’t know when she volunteers so he’s just there a lot. Eventually he figures out when she’s usually there, narrowing it down to when she mans the front desk, which is his perfect opportunity to reach peak annoyance.

  
He feels very studious even though he doesn’t actually do much when he’s there. The first time he justifies his time by actually doing that assignment for his Devs class. Who knew books could actually be useful in writing a paper? (Though Jake does maintain that for many of his courses, information changes too rapidly for published books to remain useful, like forensic science and politics.)

  
Once he’s finished with that paper for his Global Development class he must get creative with his reasons for coming to the library. The trick is not just being there, but also finding excuses to talk to Amy.

  
The third time he goes to the library he finds her organizing an art history section, which was at the far back of the second floor. He’s surprised he finds her out of all four floors of their massive library. It was sheer luck that he wandered here. He watches as her shirt rides up as she reaches to place a book on a high shelf, staring as it reveals some of her stomach. He clears his voice.

  
“Hi Mrs. Librarian,” he says “where is the politics section?”

  
She jumps a bit and drops her books. He apologizes and helps her pick them up, returning them to her waiting arms. She looks frazzled and it doesn’t help that she’s wearing her oversized square glasses that do not help to make her look less like a librarian.

  
“Jake,” she yell-whispers, demanding “What are you doing here?”

  
“Uh… looking for the politics section?” it comes out more as a question than a statement.

  
“Oh! Right,” she looks a bit frazzled and shocked by his presence. “But Jake, you don’t go to the library.”

  
He needs to keep up this facade so he shrugs and says, “I need a book for my class.”

  
“What class?”

  
“Do you usually interrogate people who ask you for help at the library?”

 

“Have you been to the library before?”

  
“Yes,” Jake says, “what kind of student do you think I am, Santiago?”

  
She rolls her eyes.

  
“Politics is over here.”

  
And so he spends a lot more time in the library this semester, often spending his free time wandering and looking for a chance to bother her. Sometimes he even gives up and gets his work done, which is super interesting to him even as he experiences it. He justifies it all as Amy being easily annoyed, which is infinitely amusing.

  
“Hi I heard you lend phone chargers to poor, unfortunate students?” He walks up to the front desk, grinning as Amy glares at him. He knows her boss is right behind them, and she’s forced to grin and help him.

  
“Sure thing,” she says through gritted teeth, “what kind of charger can I get for you?”

  
“Uh… what chargers do you have?” He asks.

  
She reaches under the desk and retrieves a basket of cables. She does not look impressed with him, which fills him with glee.

  
“So…” he pretends to read her name tag. “Amy, is it? I don’t know if you would have my charger. Because it’s a really unique phone.”

  
“Jake you have an iPhone,” Amy growls.

  
“It’s really unique,” he repeats himself.

  
She hands him the iPhone charger. He grins and gives her his student card. He can have it for three hours, which means that he gets to bother her again when he’s done. But that’s a long time so after about fifteen minutes of working on the dumb student council video he returns to the front desk.

  
He rings the little bell that alerts the clerc that they need to help someone and she comes running out of the back, only to glare at him once again as she finds him asking for help.

  
“May I borrow a computer charger?” he says, sickenly sweetly.

  
“Jake I’m looking at your computer at the desk over there. You have your charger.”

  
“How do you know that’s my computer?”

  
“It has a Die Hard sticker.”

  
“Everyone loves Die Hard, Amy.”

  
“You were just working at that desk, Jake.”

  
“Aw! You were paying attention to me!”

  
She hands him the damned charger and walks away before even signing it out to him. He shrugs and brings both the chargers back to her when his time is up. Deciding to avoid making her superiors too suspicious of him. He wants to annoy her not get her in trouble or anything.

  
Anyways he actually gets a lot of good work done on his video. It’s super boring and the editing can only do so much to make it watchable. Jake is an editor not a miracle worker. Though Holt did know this when he assigned it.

  
After a few more visits Jake develops another strategy for annoying Amy. He decides to begin asking her to find really weird books with him. He starts out relatively normal, requesting some books on criminology, so she doesn’t really question his new interest in academics, but Jake eventually steps up his game and asks for the weirdest books he can find.

  
“Yes ma’am, I would like you to help me find Extreme Ironing by Phil Shaw.”

She rolls her eyes.

  
“That can’t be a real book.”

  
“The ISBN is one eight four three three zero five five five zero,” he says, watching her type those keys into her computer. To her frustration, and Jake’s sheer glee, she gets a result. She sighs and writes down the call number and he follows her into some obscure section of the library where he collects his book.

  
And so this continues. He requests “Why Cats Paint” by Heather Busch, “Old Tractors and the Men Who Love Them” by Roger Welsch, “If God Loves Me, Why Can’t I Get My Locker Open?” by Lorraine Peterson, and his ultimate favourite to request: “It’s New Year’s Eve in New York City. Your best friend died in September, you’ve been robbed twice, your girlfriend is leaving you, you’ve lost your job… and the only one left to talk to is the gay burglar you’ve got tied up in the kitchen… P.S. your cat is dead.” by James Kirkwood.

  
Jake has to thank his painfully early Global Development class for this unique, and priceless opportunity to bother Amy to no end. An 8:30 has never felt so sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry but I didnt take Spanish in school but I thought google translate would serve me for like five words lmk if I was way off or something


	7. Coffee / Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy is also making excuses to spend time with Jake, since they're both in love but are too oblivious to realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame @peraltiagosisland for Amy's hand kink in this fic. Also if you want to talk about Hogwarts house headcanons pLEASe message me

Though Amy is fully aware that Jake has been harassing her in the library on purpose for weeks, she can’t actually call him out for it. She’s complained to his face, but more in the teasing, hoping he doesn’t stop kinda way. She can’t really complain since she’s basically been doing the same thing.

In her defense Jake is actively annoying her. He’s always at her desk or running into her on her shifts at the library, asking her dumb questions or requesting the most ridiculous books that she never even knew existed. She can barely go through a shift without seeing him.

Normally she would just spend her whole shift checking out books for students, or shelving books and occasionally helping a student find a book. She was used to seeing people she knows, it’s not a big enough school to avoid that, but she’s never experienced it at this level. There’s _no_ way he needs “How to Raise Your I.Q. by Eating Gifted Children” by Lewis B. Frumkes for a class, no matter how much he says he does.

There’s also no reason for Amy Santiago to spend so much time at The Coffee House. Not that it’s not a good place. It is! It is easily the most popular place to grab a drink on campus. They’re on the main floor of a tall, centrally located building, with lots of professors’ offices above. It has a plethora tables and couches, designed specifically for students to work, eat, and socialize. She enjoys the food and the drink and the atmosphere. She also got a lot of work done there. Except when Jake was working as a barista.

See, when Jake worked she was distracted. He would make small talk as she ordered, joking around about something Charles said or some stupid thing he did, often holding up the line behind her. He’d chat with her at the counter as he works on her drink, and often she’d linger if there were no other customers, just to chat.

Ever since the whole art history midterm thing, he’s softened a little. His jokes for her are less _mean_ and a little more funny. Though he was never _mean_ mean, but something has shifted about their dynamic and Amy hasn’t really figured it out.

He knows her order, she doesn’t even have to say anything.

“The usual Santiago Special?” He asks with a grin every time.

And he does it perfectly. It’s just a coffee with two milks and one sugar. Nothing too fancy. She shifts into lattes when things get busy but right now it’s just week five, not even midterms so she’s still good. No need to spend $4.25 on a sweet frothy coffee every day when a normal one should suffice. But he does it all so well. No matter what she orders they all taste better when it’s from him.

And when he makes her drink she gets to watch as he picks out her cup, and slowly fills it with coffee. He stirs the milk and sugar into it, slowly, carefully, his hands proper and skillful. He gives a coffee the same care he gives his camera.

It’s such a powerful contrast to the Jake she thought she knew. The chaotic prankster who talked faster than an eight year old who just ate all the easter chocolate. Jake at the Gazette house is a bundle of energy and distraction. This Jake is purposeful. When he rolls up his sleeves and leans on the counter once he’s handed her the drink, it makes her knees a little weak. She has trouble reconciling the two dramatically different Jakes that she knows. She decides she’s going to add it to her Jake binder and deal with it later..

In the meantime she is pretending to work on her American Art History paper while surreptitiously stealing glances at Jake as he froths milk for a latte, he’s making obscene up and down, and twisting motions with the cup, pushing it in and out repetitively.

One thing that Jake has started to do was write notes on her cup. Sometimes they’re generic messages like ‘good luck on your article today’ or ‘see you at press day’ etc. But sometimes they get a little more _Jake._ Meaning they’re memes. And avant-garde memes. One time he drew the snapchat hotdog on it, another time he wrote “ordering salad, right in front of my salad?” on her cup the time she got lunch there. They’re often really bad memes and yet Amy finds herself looking forward to seeing him and getting a little message.

And sometimes if she times it right she’ll get there near the end of her shift and get to spend time with him when he comes and works. Sometimes they both work in silence on their projects for The Gazette. Jake would edit on his laptop, headphones on, occasionally showing her funny clips from his work, or asking her opinions. For Amy she’d work on her articles, sometimes reading parts out loud to make sure they make sense, and other time she’d do her readings for class. Other times they would talk, and often get into passionate and often furious discussions.

Like one random Wednesday night when the topic of Harry Potter comes up. And with that subject Amy is prone to falling into The Hogwarts House Discussion. Most people know not to fuck with Amy and Harry Potter but apparently Jake does not know that. Jake has never read the books. He’s only seen the movies so he’s _completely_ unqualified to talk about this. Somehow he’s still talking and now they’re arguing.

“Rosa would _definitely_ be a Slytherin,” Jake says, for the millionth time, “She’s all scary and mean. It’s perfect.”

“Jake I don’t think you understand that there are things that make a person a Slytherin more than just being scary. She’s obviously a Gryffindor, she’s brave and impulsive like you.”

“But she wears green _all the time!”_

The debate goes on and Amy eventually brings out the house wikipedias and Pottermore, citing her sources which all the points she makes. Jake is a little less precise but he’s infinitely more confident with his answers. Almost a half hour passes as their debate gets heated, which ends up with them doing the quiz in the perspective of Rosa, which is a bit difficult because neither of them know anything about her. They reach a stalemate which is only broken when they decide to text her to settle the whole thing.

 

Jake: hey amy thinks ur a gryffindor but ur defs a slytherin rnt u??

Rosa: what’s a slytherin

 

They both don’t understand how Rosa, a millennial, could _possibly_ have missed Harry Potter in ANY form. It’s literally a qualification to be in their generation to at least know what it is, if not have seen every movie or read all the books. More people know their Hogwarts house than their Myers-Briggs personality type.

When the argument turns into a revolt against Rosa’s lack of knowledge of Harry Potter, Amy makes the mistake of calling herself a Slytherin. Now in contrast to his opinion of Rosa, Jake is convinced she’s a Hufflepuff, “because you’re nice and you work hard and stuff.”

Which is totally off base because Amy’s ambition is what drives her. But realistically, Jake’s not listening to her because he thinks she’s not mean enough for the role. So they sit there in debate for longer than they should.

+

“I’m starving!” Jake proclaims after no progress had been made at their debate for at least an hour. “There’s this place down the street that apparently serves the _best_ pizza in the neighbourhood. It’s kinda off campus but I’ve been _dying_ to try it.” 

Jake grabs her and propels her out of her seat, and Amy discovers she doesn’t really have much of a say in whether they go or not. Suddenly they’re walking together down the street, towards whatever place he was talking about. The sun is about to set so the world is bathed in that beautiful orange glow. It makes Jake’s eyes shine as they continue their conversation, neither of them pausing for a moment.

Once they enter the restaurant and sit on either side of the table, about to order does it hit Amy that this feels like a date. They’re alone at a restaurant that’s not fancy, but also not the cafeteria or Jake’s work. This was real.

It has a really nice vibe. They’re seated at overstuffed leather benches, with a metallic table between them. The floor is black and white tile, and the walls are decorated in vintage advertisements. Jake is basking in the pink glow of the neon sign to his left. The sun is streaming through the windows towards her, and an orange sky fades to a deep blue over the course of their meal.

They discuss the need for Jake to read all of Harry Potter, to which he protests that it’ll be boring because he’s seen the movies. Amy vows to lend him her beat up copies that she’s had since she was little.

Jake orders the most disgusting sounding meat on meat pizza, while Amy goes for a classier sounding chicken pesto with some veggies, they both are massive, where one slice is basically an entire pizza. This leads into a brief eating contest, which is quickly vetoed by a nauseous Jake.

They also move on to the safe territory of talking about their jobs. Technically they should discuss the elections as Jake and her are working together on that, but that wouldn’t be talking about work, that would be _working._ And you can’t work on a date. No. It’s not a date. It’s two coworkers and friends who want to spend time together outside of class. Not a date.

“What’s the deal with Gina and Rosa,” Amy asks conversationally. “There’s something weird going on between them, and Charles keeps looking at Gina funny.”

“Oh my _god,”_ Jake replies, placing his head in his hands, “That’s a disaster.”

Amy laughs.

“So as we all know, Charles is hopelessly in love with Rosa, who is obviously not into him,” he continues.

“Go figure,” Amy says.

“See I know for a fact that Gina is so down for Rosa, but on the other hand I know exactly four things about Rosa: 1. She is my coworker. 2. She wears a lot of black and leather jackets. 3. She has a home somewhere (I am not actually certain about that because I do not have explicit proof. 4. She is profoundly terrifying.”

“Does Rosa like girls?” Amy asks.

“That is not on my list of things that I know about her,” Jake replies.

“I get vibes,” she offers, “But I’m not the most qualified at knowing things about Rosa.”

The only thing Amy ever really experienced with Rosa was her taking her aside when Amy first started working there. She told her that the newspaper was definitely a boys club and that they should stick together.

“You know Gina right?” Amy asks. “What does she think?”

Jake shrugs, “Gina doesn’t let the conversation get to that point, she has a wonderful way of twisting the conversation back to me. She makes me talk about my love life.”

“What love life?”

“Ouch.”

It’s not a date because they don’t have romantic feelings for each other. Jake’s love life that he talks to Gina about is definitely about someone else. He doesn’t like _her._ He’s always calling her lame or commenting on the stick up her butt. She’s not his type. They’re really good friends who work together.

It’s still not a date when Jake walks her to her door and they hug goodbye. It’s still not a date when she stays in his arms a second longer than friends would. And also still not a date when she misses him immediately as soon as she closes the door. It’s not even when she imagines Jake talking about liking her to Gina.


	8. Peraltiago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake eats a salad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay guys, I meant to post this on tuesday (I think) but this has been the most chaotic week in a long time. basically at the same time as getting sick, the real newspaper needed my attention. 
> 
> so far i've written a signed editorial, sat through a five hour meeting on elections, filmed two debates, stayed up till five am editing one of said debate videos, and had an unfortunate amount of work drama. (someone has been releasing stuff we say in our private group chat to some candidates running for the undergraduate student society)
> 
> on the down side I didn't have much to say in this chapter, on the upside I now have more ideas for later chapters!!!

It’s the first day back from fall reading week and it’s been so long since he last saw Amy and he’s bursting to see her. He did nothing, and he means nothing, over the break. He hung out in his Nana’s apartment with Gina and 90% of the time they just hung out in their pjs and watched netflix. He finally caught up with all of his favourites, including Serve and Protect, and too many of Gina’s as well. Jake’s newfound love of the neverending drama of Riverdale is all her fault. 

Though he and Gina are from Brooklyn and only had a short ways to go home, the rest of their friends returned to their parents places, all scattered across the state, and country. Amy’s bitmoji was uncomfortably far from Jake’s for the first time since classes started and he’s starting to get edgy. 

He’s filming an interview tomorrow but there’s no way to be sure Amy would be there. Editorial board is all the way on tuesday and he cannot wait that long. Jake doesn’t want to do something lame like ask her to hang out. That would be super lame and out of character. He also doesn’t have the time yet to spend it on hanging out in the library, hoping it’s Amy’s shift. 

Putting off his assignments and his production schedule for the Brooklyn Gazette was a mistake. He’s used to doing this to himself, and honestly, he thrives on time restraints. His fifty pages of reading, two write ups, three short assignments, one essay, and goal of making two videos per week is probably something he should start to take seriously, as they all have due dates of anywhere between tomorrow or next week. 

But his intense desire to bother Amy is way more important according to Jake. She’s just so fun to annoy and over the break he found even more really funny books to request. He also planned to put photos of Amy randomly throughout the Gazette house tomorrow, but he’s worried about not having enough time. He’s complaining about this very dilemma to Charles and Gina. They’re patiently listening to him rant about all the work he has to do and how it is interfering with his pranks on Amy. He doesn’t realize it but he’s talked about Amy for almost ten minutes now. 

"Jake! You do realize that you have become the archetypal little boy pulling little girls pigtails right?" Boyle exclaims while slurping from his soup.

Jake grimaces at the whole slurping thing.

“Pigtails are super fun to pull, there’s no ulterior motive there, Boyle.”

“Nu-uh Jakey,” Charles says. “You like Amy. You’re pulling all these pranks, and wasting your free time bothering her because you like her. How many times have you been to the library this semester?”

“More than once…”

"Ha!” Charles yells, “Jamy is REAL!" 

  
Jake grimaces at that name for their relationship, which sounds very wrong. Not as bad as when he called them Aake earlier. Or Amake. Or Sanalta. He could go on. They’re all terrible and Charles needs to find a better one. 

But no! He shouldn’t be thinking about how Charles has the wrong name for them he should be denying the crush. Because he does  _ not _ like Amy Santiago. She’s super annoying. She’s always sucking up to Holt, and doing really well on her articles, and being all organized and stuff. She has binders for god sake! What are they? Eighth graders? She’s always wearing shirts that look ironed. Who irons? She makes her own salads for lunch out of food that she bought from the grocery store. They have a meal plan so that all of them eat shitty cafeteria food for a  _ reason. _

  
"Kind of? Maybe!" Jake stutters and begins to panic at his revelation, "shush. Don't talk so loudly someone could hear."

“Come on Boyle,” Gina says, “We should obviously call them Peraltiago.”

“This is great Jake,” Boyle continues, “We all knew that you liked her. You’re always flirting at work.”

  
He shushes them again to no avail. No one probably cared enough to eavesdrop on them in the school cafeteria. Jake had to admit. It's a big school and as much as he'd like to think he's pretty popular, there's only so much popularity you could have at college. 

He takes another bite of soggy cafeteria pizza. Thanking the god of good cafeteria food for the dining halls all day pizza stand, which has been great for his soul but not great on his health. He can have pizza for breakfast. Amy doesn’t know what she’s missing.

  
"Hey losers," Rosa Diaz says, sitting down next to him,. "Jake likes Amy now? That's gross."

  
He puts his head in his hands. Of course she heard them. What are the chances that one of the only people who actually knew both of them would be the one to pass by as Boyle said that. Out of everyone at their college. 

  
"They're gonna get married someday," Boyle announces. 

Jake begins to plan his own funeral. 

"But first buddy, the way to a woman's heart is to wash her hair for her! Really lather it up."

  
This is unfortunately a sentiment Jake has heard many times before. It never gets more appealing. There are so many more sexy things to do in the shower. Beyond that, the thought of Boyle imagining him washing Amy’s hair gives him the heebie-jeebies. 

  
"Gross," Jake, Gina and Rosa say in unison. 

  
"It'll be beautiful," he articulates that with his fork. 

  
"Seriously guys," Jake says, deciding to confide some of his fears in his best friends.  "What do you think? Will it screw up our work relationship? Does she even like me back? Should i tell her? I have no answers."

  
"Who wouldn't like you Jakey," Charles assures him, patting him on the back. 

  
"Thanks buddy," Jake sighs. He stares at the salad on his plate. It's out of character for him but he saw it and he thought Amy would be proud of him for eating healthy and it just happened. 

  
"Holt won't care," Rosa says, "he doesn't care a rat's ass about what you do as long as your work isn't compromised."

  
"Man, spending time with Amy would probably make my work better," Jake says, "she'd probably be all time-managementy all the time and it'd rub off on me. Or something."

  
"Damn Jake," Rosa says, "you got it bad."

  
Jake lets his head fall onto the table. He's gotta do something about this. 

“Don’t worry, pineapples,” Gina says, “Amy’s totes got the hots for you. She’s always making this gross face at you where she looks  _ happy  _ or something.”

Jake peaks up a bit from where his head is firmly planted on the table. His heart flutters at the thought of Amy actually liking him back. 

“You think?”

“You bet,” she laughs at him. “But real talk here: should my dance troupe do our final show to the song Uptown Funk or My Heart Will Go On. That is the only important question we should be considering right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave me comments because after my week I need as much motivation to work on this story as I can get
> 
> & follow me on tumblr @gravelyhumerus


	9. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midnight: a playground, a drug deal, and a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might not be as frequent from now on, since my life has gotten a little chaotic recently. I'm no longer sick but now I have to deal with the consequences of taking time off school

Amy puts down her book onto her night stand, making sure to replace her bookmark carefully. She is not the kind of monster to dog ear a book in the name of marking her place. She sees too much of that at her job in the library and it has truly scarred her for life.

Someone's at her door, knocking with a unique, but unrecognisable pattern. It's almost midnight. Everyone who knows her knows that she's more than likely asleep at this time of the night. Amy values her sleep because with all her commitments, she never knows when she wont get it. Maybe it's the RA asking to borrow her kettle again? Or maybe Kylie lost her key and is locked out? 

Amy is not pleased as she was about to go to bed. She expected to be falling asleep to the comforting world of Hogwarts by now. It’s tuesday night and she doesn’t have a class until 10:30 tomorrow. She is very excited about getting her full nine and a half hours sleep recommended for her age group. It’s the first semi early night she’s had in awhile. 

In a huff, she marches the length of her room. Sparing a glance to her phone as she walks, she has a few missed texts from Jake (or “Editor in Chief Jakey” as he changed her phone to say the other day).. She just saw him a few hours ago at editorial board. He probably has some questions about work. They have a meeting later this week with the entire staff to go over roles for the upcoming election. She ignores it in favour of determining who’s on the other side of her door.  

It happens to be none other than Jake Peralta. He smiles at her with his floppy hair disheveled, the curls falling down onto his forehead. En lieu of his normal flannel and jeans, he dons a pair of captain America pjs and a royal blue house robe. 

“Jake,” she says, exasperated, ”what are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“I missed you!” He replies, “it's been seven whole hours since I saw you last.”

“Uh… sure.” He's never missed her before. He's usually complaining of her presence, especially when they get teamed up at work. She's boring and a buzzkill, his words not hers.

“Wanna go for a walk with me?” He asks, his thumb pointing down the hall.

“Are you crazy? It's the middle of the night!”

“It's not even midnight, and you don't have class till 11:30 tomorrow.”

“Ignoring the fact that you somehow have my schedule memorized,” she frowns, “I need to maintain a set sleep schedule. It's a key to success.”

“Where'd you learn that?”

“I took a seminar.”

“They have seminars for that? Never mind. Speed is of the essence. It's an emergency I need your help.”

He looks sincere and hasn't come to her in the middle of the night before so she believes him. She slips on real shoes and grabs her keys and follows him. He seems giddy as they leave their dimly lit residence and she fears what he's getting her into. 

They walk in silence down the stairs, and across the road. Amy wonders what kind of emergency would warrant her presence, and she grows even more confused as Jake veers into the sketchiest park on campus. She really needs to update her Weird Things Jake Does Binder because he’s starting to surprise her more and more these days.

“Peralta, why did you drag me out of my comfortable, warm dorm room into some  _ park _ in the middle of the night? What is this? Are you doing something illegal?”

He pulls out his phone and grins as he shows her the screen. She sees a small, orange, dinosaur like creature on the screen. It's jumping around.  He tries to throw a red and white ball at it, but misses it. He pulls the phone back towards himself and tries again.. He looks thrilled.

“Really jake? A Pokemon? We're here to catch a Pokemon?”

“Not just any Pokemon. A  _ charizard, _ Amy.”

“I'm going home,” she spins on her heel, but he stops her with his hand, pulling her reluctantly towards him. His hand is warm and sends a bit of a rush through Amy, jolting her and imploring her.

“No one will play with my anymore,” Jake whines, “my floormates would all go out together first year but now they're over it. I gotta catch ‘em all, Ames.”

He looks weirdly sincere as he shows her his new Pokemon. The animation makes the creature seem to roar at her. 

“Why don't you ask Charles to play with you? I don't play games. I have more important things to do. Like sleep.”

“Pokemon is very important to me. Hatching eggs is the only reason I left my room all winter,” he grins, clearly proud of himself. “It gives me goals.”

She sighs, trying to fight how her insides are getting warm at the sight of him so happy. And in that moment she discovers that his hand is still grabbing her forearm, warm against the slight chill of the fall air. She grabs onto his hand and makes her decision. 

“Let's find you a Pokemon,” she announces, dragging him further into their park. 

They walk towards what she believes is a statue of some old dean of their college, which is probably a pokestop. Amy does not have time for games, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have brothers, and a reasonable understanding of current pop culture. Amy understands the premise of Pokemon Go.  

Jake finds a bunch of Pokemon as they walk, letting Amy try her hand at a few pidgeys, not even seeming to mind as she wastes all pokeballs on them. Or when she starts giving him fun facts about campus and the history of their college. She has to admit, for a video game, it's kinda fun. She enjoys how the design interfaces not only with the camera, but the environment. 

They wander into the playground at the centre of the park, talking and laughing about nothing in particular, really talking about things other than their jobs for more than a few passing comments. Amy talks about important historical facts about their university, about important alumni memorialized in plaques by various trees around the park.

There’s a moment lull in their conversation where they look at each other, with a little too much heat and not enough physical distance for comfort.

“Race you to the swings?” She asks, beginning to sprint before she even finishes her sentence, getting a few second lead before Jake has the chance to react. Her feet kick up wood chips as she tears across the playground, with Jake at her heels. He whoops as he briefly gains the lead, but soon Amy surpasses her lunging forward.

She wins, leaping up onto a swing, announcing her victory and that she was faster than him, even though he called it ‘totally unfair.’ In retaliation he grabs her swing, and begins twisting it around, pulling her in circles and winding up the swing.

“Jakeee,” she squeals, trying to push him away. He lets go and she screams as she spins, around and around, catching glimpses of his laughing face in the moonlight. She stumbles as she finally jumps off. She dizzily tries to give chase to her attacker but gives up as she tumbles onto the grass. She just lays there for a moment, the world tilting and spinning so much that she presses her eye closed. 

Memories flood her of growing up, spinning herself until she was dizzy with her brothers, running amok in their neighbourhood. She had to be faster and more agile than them, using her small frame to her advantage as she strived to keep up with their antics. With seven brothers she had to.

She can hear Jake wheezing next to her and her arm shoots out, tackling him until he joins her, sprawling out on the ground. Their hands are really close as they lay on the cool dewy grass. If she moved her hand to the left she could reach out and grab his. Maybe she could pull him in and he could make her dizzy in another way.

Eventually the world slows down and Amy stands up, offering her hand and helping Jake up too. His grin is illuminated by the dim streetlight on the other side of the playground.. Once again neither of them let go so they continue like that, hand in hand.   
Like a couple would.

She ignores that because they're just coworkers. Friends. A crush on Jake Peralta is completely irrelevant. Amy wants to be captain one day, and interpersonal dilemmas only distract her. He would distract her.

By the edge of the park is a road that cars can drive through, they hear the crunching sound of tires on gravel as one approaches slowly. The lights blind them as their eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the night, they squint and raise their hands up to shield their eyes.    


The car pulls up next to a park bench. A man raising himself from where he was sitting and walks up to it. Though it's blocked from their vision, they're certain the two made some sort of exchange. Some sort of  _ illegal exchange. _   


Amy yanks Jake behind the tree, certain that accidentally snooping on a drug deal was gonna get them shot or something. Suddenly they become acutely aware that they’re a pair of 20 year old kids alone in a park at night in a big city, with more crime than they care to worry about. Adrenaline flows through their veins as they huddle behind the tree.

A few moments pass and they hear the car creep away, followed by scuffs of boots making their way out of the park. They stare at each other, not quite sure what just happened before bursting into muffled giggles. That wasn't some guy passing weed to his buddy from down the hall that was the real thing.    


"Did that just happen?" Jake whispers.    


Amy nods. They peak around the tree to verify that the man and the car are both gone.    


"Should we report it?" Amy whispers, wide eyes.    


"Hi, yeah, nine-one-one? Yeah I saw a guy walk up to a car in the park that I was lurking in at midnight and I think something happened," Jake says in a silly voice.    


"I see your point," Amy sighs.    


"Anyways why do boring police stuff when we could climb that tree?"    


He points at a tree a few feet from them and it's beautiful. It's too dark to really see the colour but there's lots of branches, looping down then up offering perfect hand and footholds to climb to the top. Amy grins and takes that as a challenge.    


They race to the tree, climbing at an aggressive rate, both striving to climb faster and higher and to win. Though Jake does get to the top faster, due to his slightly longer limbs. Amy decides the contest is not completely fair but she lets it slide.

Amy realizes that she's having a lot of fun. It's probably super late at night and if Kylie comes back and she isn't there she's going to have a fit. She also really should start to worry about her job and all the work she’s going to have to in this upcoming month. There’s so much to worry about but she doesn’t let herself think about it for too long.

She makes herself comfortable on a thick branch, her thigh touching Jake’s. Their hands touch once again, still unacknowledged. They’re hesitant and afraid, both ready to snatch their hands back at the hint of a flinch from the other but none of that happens. She looks out onto the park and the campus behind it. Their limestone residence rests on opposite side of the park, hulking and massive with its ornate construction, and delicate  ivy that covers the side. In the distance, the rest of their campus stretches up, a mix between historical buildings and new skyscrapers. Their jobs and classes are so close but that doesn’t really seem to matter right now. It’s nighttime and those concerns are for the morning.

Right now she's under the stars and the air is crisp. There’s a slight breeze that rustles the leaves around them, some breaking off and falling to the ground. Amy can feel Jakes body heat radiating against her own, and though he’s so dorky in his pjs (and she probably is too), the way his face is lit by the moonlight makes him look so much more handsome than she has ever noticed. He’s looking at her in a way that makes her stomach flop a little bit.

Life is good sometimes.


	10. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power is out in their residence and Jake is certain that Amy would be prepared for anything. And he does mean anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *shows up three weeks late with a starbucks*
> 
> hi guys so this semester has legit been a disaster for me but I'm back cause it's reading week and I finally have free time. 
> 
> as soon as election season ended i had about two days off before my boss decided to do a documentary on the school's basketball team so that meant i had a week of being a varsity athlete (aka waking up at 5:30 am to be in the gym for 6:30 to film them). THEN it was midterms, where i pulled my first all nighter at university. it was truly iconic bc i ended up visiting starbucks at 7:30am and going to bed at 8am, sleeping for an hour and a half before my TWO midterms. but its over and im done and im ready to relax this week!!!!
> 
> anyways, i think in my last chapter i mentioned that i wanted to add to this, but i decided that i probably should just post what i already wrote and call it a day. so expect the rest of the 14 chapters to proceed as planned. that means i have four more chapters!! we're in the home stretch!! my posting schedule will probably get a little more regular from now on, but i guess i cant really promise anything haha. 
> 
> this chapter is a long boi, and is why this fic is rated how it is [now mature when it was teen and up before]. if you're not a fan of that kinda thing i woudn't read the second half of this chapter. 
> 
> dont forget to tell me what you all think!!

Jake wakes up from his nap to a dark dorm room, disoriented with a dry mouth and a sore body. He rolls over, grabbing his phone and dismissing his alarm. He spends a few seconds checking on some notifications before he sits up to go work at his desk for a while. He tells himself he’ll start his readings for Criminal Psychology but really he’s planning to open up Final Cut Pro so he can finish his video. 

He spins the dial to his bedside lamp, trying to turn it on, but it doesn’t work. He spins it over and over but he remains in the dark. He just assumes it’s the bulb or something so he stumbles in the dark and tries to turn on his desk lamp. It doesn’t turn on either. He glances out his window and discovers that familiar glow of the streetlamp that he can usually see from his window is gone. It’s dark. The powers out. 

He checks his phone, but it’s only at 36%, and his computer is a bit more charged, at 67%, but neither are going to last very long without power. It’s only 8pm and there’s no way he’s gonna go back to sleep now. He briefly considers watching a movie on his computer, but fears a longer outage which might mean he has to cannibalize the power for his phone. 

He should probably do his readings like he planned, as the next morning his class will be on the same topic, but he doesn’t even have a flashlight to read by. As much as his eyes are adjusting to the ambient light of his room, it’s definitely not enough to read by. 

He sends a few texts to some group chats, and from what he can tell, the entire campus is without power. Even some of his friends who live off campus say that the whole neighbourhood is down.

He can’t actually see in his room right now, and with his battery percentage he fears he’s going to have to sit there twiddling his thumbs for the rest of the night. His first thought is to text Gina because she probably has candles and they often play board games in her room. Unfortunately, he’s under explicit instructions to not bother her when she is alone in her room with Rosa and that’s what Find My Friend says. 

He decides to call on Amy. She’ll have a candle or something, because she is the most prepared person he knows. She probably has some water and ration packs for a lockdown too, but having eaten dinner already, he’s only interested in some light to see by. 

He doesn’t let himself admit it but he’s also definitely going down there to see her. Actually, he’s pretty far down this rabbit hole not to let himself admit it. He’s been making more excuses to himself and to her to why he’s inserted himself into her life to reasonably deny that he has a huge, breathtaking, overwhelming crush on Amy Santiago. 

And then there was that date-thing at the pizza place. Or the time he dragged her out to play Pokemon Go at midnight. If Amy doesn’t think he’s hopelessly crushing on her, she’s obviously oblivious because every time he sees anyone else at The Gazette they’ve asked him if he’s made a move yet. 

But Amy obviously doesn’t like him back. She’s always calling him annoying or mentioning that he’s her most incorrigible friend.  He googled it and incorrigible means not able to be corrected, improved, or reformed, which means he’s hopeless. Amy obviously wants to date a person who’s neat and organized and like her. Jake’s too much of a disaster for her. 

He trips on the pile of clothes and falls on his floor, completely blind in his room and knocked off balance by something poking his foot from underneath his unmade bed. He considers using his phone flashlight to navigate his res, but if all else fails and he doesn’t find anything else to occupy his time, he will need it to play Kwasy Cupcakes. So he fumbles his way across his floor, pulling on a sweater over his head, and a pair of jeans over his brief-clad body. He forgoes shoes because he’s only going downstairs, as Amy’s room is conveniently located one floor down. (Jake fights off the thought that him doing a walk of shame, and how it would only be climbing one flight of stairs. He forbids himself from thinking that way because he only is going there because he needs a candle. Nothing else. A walk of shame means sex. And shame. And he would  _ not _ be ashamed of sex with Amy, lol.)

Somehow he makes it to her door. He only trips a couple times, the emergency lights make it easy to navigate the stairs but he imagines they only have a short time period, so he should make this quick. He doesn’t need a stubbed toe on top of all this.

Amy opens the door, holding a candle. Jackpot! He thinks as her room is lit by a warm glow of some fairy lights across the left wall and over the frame of her bed, and a series of candles on her desk. 

“Hey Amy,” Jake says, squinting at the light after being in the dark for so long. “So uh... the powers out..”

_ Obviously the powers out. She would know that. Stop being dumb Jake. _

“So I thought: Amy Santiago would be super-duper prepared for something just like this to happen. And obviously you are because you have light in your room.”

He grimaces at his own awkwardness.

“Jake,” she sighs, “Of course you don’t own a flashlight. Did you walk all the way up here in the dark? Come in, I’m trying to keep the warmth in.”

“There’s emergency lights in the stairwell- wait, do you mean the heats off?”

“Yep,” she replies, closing the door behind him and moving to sit at her desk, as he sits on her bed. Its softer than his, which he thinks is totally unfair because they’re in the same residence. “They heat the radiator with electricity- hence my sweaters.”

She points at herself, her words assuming the fact that she doesn’t always wear sweaters, so she doesn’t look particularly different that usual. Maybe a little more cozy. 

And as soon as she mentioned the lack of heat, he starts feeling the difference. Their building is usually a little  _ too _ warm. Jake usually spends his time just wearing sweatpants and no shirt. But with no power the slight chill is beginning to be noticable. 

“Do you have any spare candles?” Jake asks, looking around at the impressive display of flames. She could probably spare ten at that rate. “Wait… aren’t we technically not allowed to have candles in res? Isn’t this a massive fire hazard?”

He’s never seen Amy look this panicked when Holt wasn’t involved.

“You’re not going to tell the RA?!” she demands, grabbing his arm fiercely.

“Of course not Santiago,” he laughs, “I’m not some  _ spy _ for the residence administration. I’m no snitch. I’m here to borrow one so I can do some readings.”

“You’re doing your readings? Jake Peralta is reading a book? Someone tell the news!” she mocks him. 

“Jokes on you, you  _ are  _ the news,” he retorts. “But seriously, my phone’s gonna die and my computer wont last long. I need something to pass the time.”

“And you decided to do homework? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Actually I decided to come up to see you.”

“Now that sounds a little more like you.”

They laugh. 

“How was your day?” Jake asks, making conversation so that he didn’t have to leave so soon. He sits on her bed hesitantly, but as she doesn’t really negatively react, he makes himself comfortable. 

“Busy, I had a lot to do tonight but the whole power thing got in the way. My computers about to die. Just my luck.”

“You could, like, write your articles by hand or something?”

“I need my audio recordings of my interviews to write my articles, so I’m out of luck.”

“Samsies. No comp no vids, amiright ladies? Uh, lady. Uh… Amy?”

“We’re going to start working together this week, aren’t we?” Amy says after laughing at him. 

“Yeah I guess so, with the elections and all that jazz,” Jake replies, “Holt wants videos for the undergraduate society and graduate society elections. Each team, which means at minimum two videos per week for the next month.”

“That’s big. It’s like you’re in the big leagues with us print editors,” Amy says.

“Amy,” Jake growls, “are you telling me that video is somehow a part of the big leagues.”

Amy leans back onto her bed, “Maybe?”

“Take that back!”

“Never!”

Jake crosses his arms, pouting. Amy wraps her blanket around herself, giggling at him. This is a common fight between them, as they’re both quite competitive. They’re still tallying numbers for their bet on views. They’re consistently tied as Amy’s massive amounts of content balances the viral quality of Gazette videos.

They start out with some distance between them on Amy’s, but with the cold air seeping into their bones, they start moving closer and closer together as they talk. Without the constant radiator on, their old residence is losing heat rapidly. They carry on their conversation, their voices hushed at the silence of the dorm without the normal ambient noises of the pipes, the heating, the bathrooms, and the tv in the common room. 

Jake doesn’t want to be weird about this. He’s probably crossed a line even sitting on Amy’s bed, let alone going under her covers. But he is so cold and she’s told him it’s ok so it should be fine, right? Jake is laying stiffly on Amy’s bed, wedged between the wall and Amy on the twin mattress, trying to give her space. 

The thing is, Amy doesn’t seem to want space. She shifts closer and closer to him, under the guise of moving the blankets and rolling onto her side, so much that she ends up touching his arm. 

After awhile they start gossiping about their coworkers, and because of their dramatic friend group that really gives them a lot of content to work with. The hot goss of the week is definitely Gina and Rosa. 

“I think they’re using the power outage as an excuse,” Amy says in a hushed tone.

“For what?” Jake asks.

“To cuddle of course.”

_ Is she talking about them too? _

“Just cuddle?”

Amy punches Jake on the shoulder.

“Right right, we should  _ not _ talk about whether they are cuddling or not. Defs inappropes.”

But for realz they’re both in Amy’s bed because Amy hasn’t told Jake to leave but he also hasn’t really asked to leave. He’d be so bored if he left, he’d just be panic playing on his phone and if it died what would he do? Sleep????

Amy begins shivering next to him and something inside him goes beyond his fears of making her uncomfortable and wraps an arm around her. He rubs his hand up and down her shoulder to try and warm her up. She presses ever closer against him, and they wrap their arms around each other, becoming more and more intertwined under Amy’s floral bedding. 

They don’t acknowledge their closeness. Each justifying it as keeping close for warmth. Lots of friends do that in extreme situations. (But really, is the temperature dropping a  _ couple  _ degrees in the fall really an extreme situation?? Jake isn’t sure but he’s going to roll with it.)

“Your hands are ice cold,” Amy complains, putting her hand on top of his on her shoulder. He pats her cheek with it, and she flinches at his icy digits. 

“My lips are frozen, too,” Amy complains, snuggling her face into Jake’s shoulder. 

“Mine are colder,” he replies.

“Mine are coldest!”

“Are they? Prove it,” he says, always feeling mindlessly competitive. And to his shock and pleasure, Amy kisses his jaw. He’s stunned. He doesn’t know what he thought Amy would do to prove it but he was certain it wasn’t that. 

He moves his head to face hers, his eyebrows scrunching up in surprise. Their eyes lock and he feels the heat in her gaze, her eyes dark and meeting his with an intensity that is usually reserved for debates but he can feel a completely different kind of passion. She kisses the corner of his mouth. They close their eyes. Her lips are so soft and delicate against his face. They’re certainly cold, sending sparks of sensation as they make contact with his slightly warmer skin. He closes his eyes and and moves closer as she goes for the final kiss. He turns his head slightly and their lips meet.

It’s hesitant at first, infinitely gentle and unsure, barely a peck, but man is Jake’s heart pumping at the thought of Amy kissing him. He’s imagined it but it’s so much better than his thoughts because this is Amy Santiago and she’s choosing to kiss him. She invited him into her room, into her bed, under her covers, and now she’s kissing him. 

He cautiously lifts his hand from her shoulder to caress her cheek lightly, still scared the moment he touches her this will all disappear and it will all have been just a vivid nap dream.  

But when Amy props herself up onto her elbow and deepens the kiss does Jake realize that yes this is real and Amy is definitely into this. Her hair is mussed, and her breaths come heavy and then she gives him this little half smile. Her hand moves up, and runs through his hair, then pulls him close. Her lips move softly against his, warming slightly since when they had first touched.

Jake moves tentatively, moving against hers, he’s still in shock that this is real.. He pulls back a bit but she pulls his bottom lip in between his and nips at it slightly, sending Jake spiraling into an Amy infused bliss. Their noses bump as they move, sending them giggling at the incredulity of this happening. 

They pull back and grin at each other. Suddenly something feels like it’s clicked into place. His world makes a little more sense when Amy looks at him like  _ that.  _ Like he’s the only thing she sees and wants. Everything leading up to this connects to the conclusion that Amy wants him as much as he wants her. 

Amy grins as she moves them so that she’s on top, straddling him, and all Jake’s stress fades from his body. She’s been giving him a billion signals that she’s into this, she initiated this, she’s the one making the moves, but this move finally silences the voice in the back of Jake’s mind telling him that she’s not interested, that he should leave. 

The candlelight glows on her warm skin, sending dramatic shadows shooting behind her as she rests her weight on his torso. She bends down to give him a peck on his lips, her hair framing their faces, blocking out the rest of the world. She leans back again, she takes off the extra layer of her sweater, pulling it off over her head, leaving her in her button down shirt. She grabs the hair tie on her wrist, lifts her hair into a messy bun, and moves back into kissing Jake. 

She grabs his hands, which are currently lying uselessly on the mattress (Jake’s still in shock, let him live), and for a second his heart races because it feels like she’s pinning him down, but actually she’s guiding his hands so that they can be on her waist. She’s got her weight on her elbows as her hands move through his hair, tugging occasionally as they kiss.

The blanket has fallen down off Amy’s back but it’s unnecessary as their racing hearts are keeping them warm, so warm that his hands have moves to the hem of her shirt and feeling the skin below and it’s scorching on his fingers. He tugs on it slightly, asking if he can take it off and she nods so he does, undoing the buttons of her shirt, blindly fumbling in the dark room. Once he reaches the last button, Amy shrugs it off revealing the exciting expanse of her skin. 

His eyes dance across her collar bones, the slope of her strong shoulder down to her arms, watches as she pulls off her sleeves and deposits the shirt onto her floor. His eyes trail to her chest, where his brain short circuits at the sight of her boobs. She’s wearing the most beautiful blue bra, with lace that curls around the slope onto her sternum. His eyes descend, taking in her soft stomach, moving his fingers across her beautiful tanned skin on her hips.

She looks down at him, amusement and impatience clear on her face, he can’t stop staring, wanting to stay in the moment, ready to drop down on his knees and worship her body. He can’t believe his shift from thinking of Amy as his annoying coworker, to his friend, to one of his best friends, to the girl who’s unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. 

Her hands smooth down his chest, caressing his stomach. His face flares with uncertainty and self consciousness as she stares at his shirtless body. He kicks himself for not doing more sit ups over the years. But Amy’s eyes trail happily down his body, leaning in to continue their kissing, their bare skin touching as she moves. Jake moves, kissing her cheek, then her jaw, then to her neck. He kisses and nips at her, and pulls some of her skin into his mouth, and sucking. 

Amy makes a noise and it’s a goddamned moan. Jake Peralta just made Amy Santiago moan in her bed. 

Jake is thrilled and decides that he’s definitely gonna give her a hickey, right at the top of her neck, in a place that will be barely covered by any one of her turtlenecks. As his hands hold her hips and his mouth works at her neck, he feels her hands at the button of his jeans. All the blood rushes south and he feels light headed as he feels her confident fingers undoing the button, and unzipping his pants. 

“Is this ok?” she asks, her voice deep and breathy. He nods helplessly because his jeans are starting to hurt, they’re certainly a bit too tight for him while the hottest person alive is grinding on him. 

He lifts his hips up, letting her drag them down off of his hips, letting him kick them off. He’s suddenly feeling very exposed as her eyes drag across his naked body, he’s very aware of his dick straining against his boxers, pressing against Amy’s leg. She grins at him and begins to kiss down his body, along his neck and down to his collar bones, down his chest and just as she gets close to the place he only dreams of her kissing she sits up. 

She grins at his panting. With not much thought she reaches behind her and unclips her bra with one hand, and he watches as the straps slip off her shoulders. She shrugs and it falls down, revealing her bare chest for him. His breath gets caught in his throat, and he surges forward, leaning up to pull her close and kiss her roughly, it's the only thing he can think of doing. Suddenly she’s slipping off her pants and reaching to rid him of his briefs and as much as he’s excited for what comes next as they’re naked and pressing against each other, his brain catches up to him. 

“Wait,” he says, “Are you sure we should do this?”

Amy’s not being the voice of reason for the first time in his life and he can’t move forward without her verbal consent. She nods and grins. 

“Yes of course,” she says, “we have to keep warm somehow.”

And with that she pulls of the final flimsy pieces of fabric that shield one of them from the other and Jake is able to glide his hand all the way down Amy’s back, around her bare ass and onto her thigh. He carefully grabs it with his one hand, and supports her neck with his other hand, and expertly flips them so Amy falls softly onto her bed and Jake is now the one on top. 

Amy looks both shocked and pleased, biting her lip and looking up at him. He goes for another kiss, breathing in the scent of her as he reaches his hands down. Jake’s fingers run along her hips, making circles with his fingers. Amy’s hands pull his hands between her legs and Jake starts at the feeling of his fingers against her inner thigh, feeling the heat that radiates out of her. He rubs against the sensitive skin there, as she spread her legs, asking him to give her more. Jake watches as her hands move to grip him in exchange but he moves too soon, shifting down her body so that he can kiss her heaving chest. 

He moves reverently, his lips and tongue moving against her breast as his hands still tease her thighs. She begins to make these breathy, needy noises, which are music to his ears. He takes her nipple in his mouth and he swears to god because she squeaks as his tongue flicks against her skin. At the same time as taking her other nipple into her mouth, he moves his fingers softly against her clit, brushing it before rubbing her. Her hands tighten in his hair and he takes that as a good sign. 

She’s so wet for him, he realizes with glee, hearing her gasp as he moves rhythmically against her. He travels further down glancing up at her face before licking her with a flat tongue. She moans and he does it again, holding her hips down as they try and buck into him. 

He flicks his tongue against her, sucking her labia into his mouth, and kissing her. He can tell she's close to finishing and after some time of listening to her pant and moan, he leans back, catching his breath. Amy tries to pull him back, obviously on the edge.

He moves further back, to her intense disappointment. Moaning in frustration as he just looks at her, taking in her strung out state, a familiar expression of ‘what are you doing Jake’ is on her face and he can’t believe this is happening. 

“Jake,” she breathes, pouting as his attention moves away from her aching centre. Then she pulls a similar move, flipping them and reestablishing control over the situation, which, quite frankly, Jake finds unbelievably hot. Even more so when she pulls open a drawer from her night side table and pulls out a condom. 

Well, he says to himself, he came up here because he knew she’d be prepared for a power outage, he should have expected her to be prepared for the impossible. 

She carefully rips open the condom, tearing the corner off and it out delicately. Her fingers deftly grab the top, holding the ring with care and then it dawns on him that she’s going to put it on. He almost comes at the thought of that before he realizes she’s asked him a question.

“May I?” she repeats, glaring at him like she does after he’s followed her around the library, asking dumb questions. He nods.

“Yes,” he says, realizing he’s ready to beg her for anything she wants to do to him. “Oh my god yes.”

And then it’s happening. She’s sliding it over him, her fingers touching him where he never thought they would and now she’s hovering over him. 

“Is this ok?” she asks and suddenly she’s the one that looks nervous. Amy ‘come into my room and cuddle me and now please have sex with me’ Santiago is looking nervous. 

“Yes,” he drags out the s because now she’s sliding over him and now he’s inside her. 

She feels so good around him. She moves so achingly slowly, adjusting to his size. He holds onto her hips, trying to steady her and pull her close. Her arms are locked on either side of his head, and he’s overwhelmed with stimuli. On one hand he can actually feel himself inside Amy and there’s fireworks going off in his brain but he has so much more he could focus on and his brain is literally panicking trying to take everything in. He’s got the smell of her overwhelming him because is so close to her and he swears she smells like the earthy scent of coffee and vanilla and something like that beautiful smell the neighbourhood gets after a rainfall. 

He moves in her, thrusting home slowly, but as he does she encourages him, whispering in his ear. Together they start moving faster, Jake wants to kiss Amy, but he also wants to look at her. At one point Amy pins him down and he’s sure he’s going to get a bright red hickey on the side of his neck, which is a-ok with him because it’s Amy Santiago. 

She feels so good. All of her. Her hips under his fingertips, her lips on him, her moans as he tells her how good she is. And suddenly she’s coming and she’s breathing heavily against his chest, grabbing at him and letting out a gasp. The combination of all of  that throws him over the edge right after her. 


	11. Editor in Chief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy wakes up and finds Jake in her bed. Turns out your actions have consequences! Who knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had a relaxing week of doing NOTHING and it's been lit. i have three more days before reality kicks back in and i gotta finish this semester, get a job, and apply to be at the damned newspaper next year. wish me luck!!
> 
> besides me using this fic as a journal, there's three more chapters left. the first two are BIG & kinda give a bit of an ending, and the final gives a little more closure to this story. as much as i believe this little world deserves a longer story, this is as much as i can give you

As Amy slowly wakes up she doesn't notice anything out of the norm. The sunlight is streaming through her window, the weird woosh of the radiator fades in and out, and she's very warm while wrapped up in her covers. 

It takes her a few seconds to notice the amazing feeling of arms wrapped around her, cuddling her while she's still half asleep. Jake’s arms are around her without any sort of reservation. He’s holding her so comfortably And when he stirs he kisses Amy at the back of her neck. A wave of pleasure and the feeling of safety washes over her.  

Then reality sets in and Amy is forced to evaluate her options:

  1. Say “Good morning, Jake” and go on a breakfast date and discuss what this means for their relationship. 
  2. Send him back to his room, with a wink, say she had fun and that they should do it again sometime. 



The options sound good at first. You know, fun, fresh, and flirty. Casual. Amy could be that. Maybe. Not really. She isn’t casual. Amy begins to think of the negative consequences of last night. (Think = obsess.) There are a lot more consequences than she ever thought possible. They work together!! What if Holt finds out? What if they get in a fight when dating and it ruins their friendship and working relationships? Amy is going to be Editor in Chief one day and messing up a relationship is setting off a chain reaction that leaves her severely lacking a key role in her Three Year Plan.  _ Oh god this was not part of her Three Year Plan.  _ She begins adding more and more rash options to her list:

  1. Scream and tell him to leave. 
  2. Get dressed and leave him in her room. 



Both of those are terrible ideas. 

  1. Politely and rationally explain to him why this is a bad idea, and appropriately suggest that they part ways. 



Number five wins because there's the least yelling or changing her name involved in that. And its  _ appropriate _ . Amy loves being appropriate. Amy was voted Most Appropriate in high school Well, she certainly wasn’t last night but still. If she’s appropriate 98% of the time, that still counts right? It’s college!

She sits up grabbing her sweatpants from the floor and pulling on her shit over top. She decides not being naked would result in a better outcome in telling them that they should  _ not  _ do this again. Being naked wouldn’t help. Being naked put her in this situation in the first place.  _ Oh god she and Jake were naked. Together. _

Jake sits up in her bed, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleep. He grins at her in a bleary way and it makes her heart melt. His face is warm and open, just taking her in. It’s all out of focus, as her glasses are on the other side of the room, and despite how warm the whole experience makes her feel, she also finds herself feeling off balance. She pushes those feelings down. 

He makes it to the edge of the bed and puts on his underwear and pants. She can tell he's staring at her, probably in confusion. Amy’s a talker and she’s not talking and that would throw anyone off. She looks at her hands, because the more she looks at him the more she just wants to jump into his lap and kiss him stupid.

She's not sure what he's thinking right now. Did he expect this? Did he want this to be a one night stand? Does he  _ like _ her?

Once he's no longer naked, (that's a lie he still doesn't have a shirt on so she still has to look at more skin than she expected to when having  this conversation,) he stands. She's glad because now he's actually in the range that contact and glassesless-Amy can see him in sharp focus. 

She sighs. 

“This was a bad idea,” she blurts and she immediately regrets it because his face falls from confused to devastated. She wants to take it back and invite him to breakfast and date him. But it's too late. She started this.

His mouth opens, then closes. He doesn't say anything. 

“We work together,” she says lamely and he nods, once. Sharply. He stands and grabs his sweater and leaves her room, leaving her door still open as he goes. His steps make no noise as he walks down the hall, and soon her dorm room seems as if he was never there. 

+

Amy manages to go through her whole morning without thinking about the whole Jake thing. She goes to her classes, takes diligent notes, and eats her lunch alone in the cafeteria, while reading ahead for her Baroque course. She shows up to her shift in the library her customary fifteen minutes early. She only begins to acknowledge what had happened when she finds herself glancing up, looking for Jake at his spot in the library where he sits when he comes to torment her. Expecting him to speak to her in the breathy whisper that always used to send tingles down her spine. 

But he isn't here because of this morning. Because she told him that it shouldn't of happened. Even when it was her that started it in the first place. She’s a damned idiot. 

Amy sorts books alone in the library, acutely aware of the oppressive silence that it has without Jake’s presence. It gives her too much time to think, as all her brain has to do was read and place books on shelves based on their system. 

Her mind wanders to his eyes. How they squint when he laughs at a particularly good joke, or when Amy says something weird. How serious they are when he talks about something he's passionate about. How dark and intense they were as he was bringing her to cl-

She stops herself, shaking her head. 

She can't think about last night. It was a bad idea. Amy and Jake cannot be a thing. They work together and he's a distraction and she has too much on her plate for that. She just needs to get through this shift. 

The more and more she thinks about it, the more she discovers Jake has permeated every part of her life. They work together, obviously and with that comes shared projects and social circles. They're expected to be teammates till fourth year. And beyond that they share a class, and there was that time he helped her with her art history course and now each lesson she's reminded of him quizzing her on a certain concept. Her thoughts are riddled with him at the library, and he works at her favourite study spot. And now her room. Oh god her room. She's never going to be able to look at her bed without thinking of last night ever again. Maybe she can move?

No. She's an adult. She can deal with having slept with a coworker. People do it all the time. There's apparently a lot of inbreeding at The Gazette too. (She’s heard talk but nothings confirmed. Apparently a few years back there were two co-editors in chief that were dating each other). They're totally normal. She can do this. They can just be friends. 

If they can just be friends why does Amy feel like this? As soon as she told Jake, he looked so crushed she felt this deep hurt in her chest. It was like some air was sucked out of her lungs, leaving a consistent ache around her heart. 

After her shift she wanders around campus aimlessly, thinking about the mess she's gotten herself into. She lights a cigarette, staring at it in vague disgust. She knows that it would make her feel better and it does. It's something she can control. She finds herself at 99 College Street once again, and climbs the side fire escape. 

She looks out across the dreary campus, taking puffs of smoke and blowing it out through her lips. She shivers slightly at a cool breeze, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. Autumn is upon them now and with that the leaves are changing and a chill is seeping into her bones.

She hears footsteps from above, and she jumps as she sees Chief Holt joining her outside on the fire escape, clambering to try to stand at some semblance of attention to counteract the hunched posture she was previously in. She tries to hide the lit cigarette behind her back. He doesn't look surprised when he sees her, his movements calculated and intentional. He sits on the step next to her, not making eye contact but motioning for her to sit back down.  

She does and after a moment of silence he reaches for her cigarette and takes it from her. He gives it a look before extinguishing it against the wall. He places the butt on the windowsill. Some moments pass and Amy twists at her ring, anxious as she no longer having something to do with her hands. 

“Santiago,” he begins, “would you like to tell me why you are here.”

She feels called out. How does he know she's here. Does she need to have a reason she’s here? Maybe she just wants a cigarette! He's not her  _ dad.  _

_ “ _ I had a rough day, sir,” she replies softly, not voicing her outrage.

_ Sorry sir I fucked Jake and am having a meltdown because of our working relationship _ , doesn't sound like a conversation she wants to have with him, so she leaves it at that. 

“I see,” he says impassively as normal. “I like to keep tabs of my editors. You are the backbone of this institution and maintaining your wellbeing is a part of my position as Editor in Chief.”

“I know sir. Thank you for asking.”

“I am not finished, Santiago,” he says. “Peralta stopped by today. He seemed… distressed. I know that you had a shift in the library this afternoon, and I know Jake tends to go to them, and whenever he returns he seem to be jaunty. He did not today. I do not know what happened between the two of you, but I expect you to to resolve it promptly.”

Amy doesn't want to know how he figured that one out. He must have connected their mutual turmoil to being related. Or maybe Jake told him? Unlikely. It was probably just Holt being a genius. The man would make an excellent detective. 

“Of course, sir,” Amy says. 

“Santiago,” Holt continues, “if there is anything that I can do to help resolve this conflict, please let me know.”

She nods but right now it's really up to her to fix this. But she doesn't know how. She doesn't know what to do. Her emotions are screaming for her to text Jake and apologize and kiss him all over and tell him she likes him, but her brain is repeating risks of their relationship on loop. 

_ It’s not a good idea. There is so much room for disaster. You’ll hurt him eventually. You work together. If you crash and burn you’ll bring this entire paper down with you. What if you break up and everyone takes his side? You will never become Editor in Chief.  _

Holt stands up, returning into the building and leaving Amy alone with her thoughts. 


	12. Spin The Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's better than an office party with lots of alcohol and copious sexual tension?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life really does imitate art as in i've had this chapter written for a month but tuesday night i ended up kissing one of my coworkers. we both pulled total santiago moves and decided to pretend it didnt happen so shhh dont tell anyone i told you guys

A few weeks later, Jake gazes over his red solo cup, swirling the mystery liquid in it for a second before taking a sip. He lounges on the arm of the couch, his eyes scanning around the room. 

The people around him are not strangers per se, they're also definitely not his inner circle. He could probably say all their names by now. That wasn’t always the case. When Amy found out that he barely knew all their coworker’s names last May, she obviously found it hilarious. She kept asking him to name people, pointing at their coworkers in meetings and socials. In his defense, with his job, the only people he really had to work with were his contributors and the chief. (And god damn he barely had contributors). He also happens to be quite terrible with names, they just leave his head immediately like math did in the fourth grade. 

The house is currently filled with all their staff, between the editors, assistants, business reps, contributors, they end up being over thirty students. They’re crammed into the house-slash-office all snacking and drinking punch that was definitely spiked a few hours ago. He’s surprised this whole thing was allowed.. He’s surprised  _ Holt  _ allowed this.

Obviously the Gazette gets away with a lot. The student government can say what it wants about them, but any move against them can easily lead to students calling for Freedom of the Press. So many of their old traditions still fly. Including a party on college property. 

He’s in the couch room, as they call it, where they have section head meetings, write the editorials, and are free to work and hang out during the week. It’s literally just couches in a room flanked by Holt’s office. He thinks the people who worked here long ago did more with it, as there’s a bunch of whiteboards with their various section names scattered on walls around the room. There’s also a wall of photos of the staff from all the years, some of which had really…. funky outfits…. which are next to a bookshelf filled with news-related books. But right now, it’s where the party’s at.

He’s decided that he wants to get very, very drunk. He brought some of his leftover vodka for the occasion and he’s already gone through a few a few shots. He wants to forget about Amy. The thing is, she’s at this party so there’s no way to do that. Maybe if he blacks out he’ll forget. He also might end up in the hospital so that would be a pretty bad idea. He’ll stick with numb drunk, which might make spending this party with her a little more bearable.

He finishes his drink as Gina plops down next to him, pouring some of hers into his cup. She flips her hair behind her shoulders. Behind her is the rest of his friends, Terry animatedly telling a story to the rest of them, gesturing with a red solo cup of his own. 

“So then I see her by res talking, no,  _ arguing _ with a larger frat-looking fellow that must be at least a foot taller than her,” Terry says, sitting down on the couch to the right of Jake, “I couldn’t hear her, but Terry knows enough about guys at St Patty’s parties to want to get them to back off.”

Jake frowns, trying to figure out who he’s talking about.

“And by the time I get over there, I hear a loud thud, that ends up being the crack of the guys skull against the hood of a car, as miss Amy Santiago is holding his wrist, bent, behind his back. She looked so badass.”  
Terry laughs and pats her on the back with his hand. Rosa fist bumps her.

“I can take care of myself,” she says. She seems to sit a bit more straighter, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in her tight green top

Jake feels himself beaming, his face getting a bit warm at the thought of Amy beating some guy up for however they accosted her. He looks at her for a moment, and notes that for the first time since he met her she is not wearing a button-down shit, or a sweater, or both. She’s wearing a tight fitting green t-shirt with jeans. He likes it. It’s hard to ignore her despite all the hurt she’s caused him. 

Gina leans back into the couch and says to them, “Speaking of Amy, do you think tonight’s going to be the night we get to meet drunk Amy?”

Jake laughs a bit, thinking about the concept. 

“See: we’ve all seen Amy at alcohol-present socials ” Gina replies, waving her hands in the air for the drama. Amy frowns scrunching her eyebrows together and tilts her head. Gina continues, “But my understanding of her consumption is limited to one and two drink Amys. One drink: Amy’s a little spacey. Two drinks: Loud Amy!”

She pauses, the confusion and understanding apparent on Amy’s face. Jake has to admit, he hasn’t paid that much attention but he definitely sees it now that Gina’s mentioned it.

“But I’ve never seen drunk Amy, or anything more than Two Drink Amy, who still remains all neat and proper. I imagine she will get more interesting with each drink,” Gina concludes.

With that Gina whips out a bottle of vodka out of her jacket (Jake doesn’t know how she manages to fit a two six in her pocket but it’s also Gina.) She pours a little more into everyone’s cups to spread the joy. Jake enthusiastically agrees and is soon well on his way to numbing his feelings.

+

“Spin the bottle time ladies and gents and friends,” Boyle announces, interrupting them while holding the bottle of vodka, now almost empty. 

“Litty!” Jake enthuses. 

“I’m first!” Gina announces, “It’s my vodka.”

The group gathers in a circle around the bottle, squishing onto the floor, sitting crossed legged like a highschool party. Amy and Jake are next to each other, which Jake is  _ fine  _ with because like Amy said they’re friends and coworkers. Friends and coworkers can spend time in close proximity and play drinking games. Right? 

The only ones missing are Holt and Terry, which is probably for the best because they are both in happy monogamous relationships. Holt is dating one Kevin Cozner, a TA in the classics department, while Terry is with Sharon, a pre-med student, both adorable couples according to Jake.

Gina goes first and after a long, and dramatic spin it lands somewhere between Amy and Rosa. They stare at each other and then Gina. Everyone’s looking at Gina now. 

She for one shrugs and says, “Up to you guys, I know you’re both begging for the change of my lips blessing yours.”

Amy shrugs, but Rosa seems a bit tense. 

“I’ll do it if you’re not comfortable, Rosa,” Amy says, always diplomatic, even if she’s blushing a bit. 

“I’m not hearing as much begging as I am due,” Gina says, but Jake can hear a bit of hesitation in her words. 

Jake knows Gina more than anyone, like anyone, which isn’t saying much because no one really knows her all too well. She likes that about herself. Jake and her grew up together. His mom was always gone, and Gina’s parents were pretty awol too, so his Nana took care of them in her tiny Brooklyn apartment. 

He and Gina had hundreds of sleepovers where they talked about kissing boys, and girls, and so Jake knows she's definitely not adverse to the idea of her kissing either of the girls. He means,  _ he _ would be a little adverse to her kissing Amy. If he’s not allowed to kiss her, than Gina shouldn’t get that privilege either. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly who Gina’d like to kiss, but the question right now is who’d like to kiss her back. 

“Wait Amy, is this your first kiss? Damn, that would be sad. Do you need  _ me _ to teach you how to kiss?”

“What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I've read books,” Amy replies indignant, scoffing at Gina’s words. She doesn’t get a chance to prove it before another voice rings out.

“I’ll do it,” Rosa says.

She  roughly leans forward, placing a significantly more gentle hand on Gina’s arm, letting Gina close the distance between them. Jake looks down, as much as he likes being involved in his best friends life, he’d rather be less involved. He can be proud of the kiss happening without watching it. He steals a peek at Amy, who shrugs and finishes her drink. 

A few more turns pass, which leads to a brief conversations about the ethics of the game (which is quite typical of them). This leads to a rule about no one being able to kiss their assistant in the context of spin the bottle. In other contexts it’s up to them but no one wants to actually make it uncomfortable. But that means editors can definitely kiss each other (and other people’s assistants, but Jakes drunk brain is more caught up in the possibility of kissing a certain editor.)

He’s not quite sure what drink he’s on, but he’s sure Amy’s had more than two at this point. He’s feels loose enough not to panic at the thought of kissing her. Jake knows he’s a good kisser he has nothing to worry about on his end. She obviously liked his kissing that night. He watches with amusement at the strange combinations of people forced by luck to kiss. Some people cheat a bit and kiss others on the cheeks but others go all the way and make out. To each their own.

Amy spins and she too doesn’t look particularly anxious, even when it lands on none other than Jake Peralta. The crowd cheers, apparently all invested in the palpable sexual tension between them. (Charles cheers the most).

Amy grabs his collar and before he even has a chance to thank his favourite god, Dionysus, his lips and hers crash together. Not actually because that wouldn’t be fun that’d just hurt, but metaphorically. Some emotional floodgates break and adrenaline floods through his veins, as his hand brushes against her waist. Her lips move, gently pressing and pulling back. She briefly nips at and sucks his bottom lip, leaving him letting out a whimper as she pulls away.

His eyes open a few seconds later. Everyone, including Amy, has obviously moved on from this absolutely ground shaking, earth shattering, world-changing kiss. He falls back onto the couch, his heart still pumping hard. He squints at Amy, trying to discern if it meant anything. He hopes it did. He has feelings for her, like romantic stylez, and he is still not sure what’s going on from her end.

See the night of the power outage was confusing for him. Jake didn’t initiate anything. He’s worked through this a billion times in the week since it happened. She kissed  _ him.  _ She move his hands onto  _ her _ . She took off  _ her _ shirt.  _ Amy started it. _ Jake just went along, consenting each way when Amy asked. 

Amy told him she wanted it, then told him they shouldn’t let anything happen again. That means she has feelings for him right? Did she get spooked? Did everything happen too fast? Jake has no answers for any of his questions.

Jake stepped back from her after that morning. He stopped walking with her to class, he stopped going to the library to bother her, and he didn’t even go to the Gazette house any other time than he needed to. If she wanted space he would give it to her. But he’s not going to miss this social. He’s going to spend time with his friends, and if she wants to be friends then they can be friends. 

_ + _

The night continues, and the party breaks into a few separate groups. They play a few games leading into everyone’s favourite: “Don’t Get Me Started”. The rules are: the group chooses a random topic for the person and they must talk for a whole minute about it with no breaks, repetitions, or going off topic. This is definitely a crowd favourite for them because as editors for the newspaper, they all have a lot of opinions. It’s the perfect outlet for Jake to avoid thinking about the feeling of Amy’s lips against his.

“Rosa,” Jake announces, “lawnmowers.”

She clears her throat and begins.

“Don’t get me started about  _ lawnmowers,” _ she begins as the rules dictate, “They perpetuate eurocentric classism and are a patriarchal waste of time. Pristine lawns are status symbols which colonizers maintained as proof that they didn’t have to use their land for anything  _ useful _ like gardens and crops, and could afford to leave a barron patch of ground with a foreign, probably invasive species, which can’t actually really survive in North America without constant maintenance. Which brings about the whole man-thing. Men have decided that the lawn is  _ their chore _ meaning that instead of participating in household maintenance or helping around in the nuclear family, they spend all their time mowing their lawns with loud, and obnoxious machines, poisoning our earth with toxic chemicals, aiming for an imaginary goal of a perfect green symbol for their dicks.”

“And that was,” Amy looks at her watch, “Exactly a minute. Uh- so I guess the rest of us drink because I don’t think you broke any rules.”

No one fights her on that and takes a sip. 

“Charles,” Jake says, “You’re next and no, your topic is not going to be about food. Sorry buddy. If I’m not allowed to talk about Die Hard, and Amy isn’t allowed to talk about binders than that’s that.”

Charles mopes, but is very passionate about discussing crocs when it’s assigned. Eloquently discussing the pros and cons of the ubiquitous footwear. After a few more rounds and a few more rants they move into the game that Gina has on her phone. He calls it that because he’s not really sure what it is. It’s basically a tool to get everyone very very drunk.

Gina fiddles with it, inputting all their names and letting it announce.

“Jake you must stare at me until told otherwise,” Gina reads off a bright yellow screen on her phone. “And as you all know, the rules state that if you don’t follow the instructions you drink. Clear?”

“Yup,” Jake says, beginning to stare at her uncomfortably, he hopes he’s allowed to blink. 

“Amy, if you put on deodorant before coming here, give out 4 sips. Otherwise drink 2 sips, you should respect your friends!”

They burst into laughter, and Amy looks offended. 

“Of course I put on deodorant!” Amy says, “I’m not a weirdo. Uh all my sips go to.. Jake.”

Jake glares at her.

“Ah! Jake! You stopped staring at me you gotta take five now.”

“Fuck!” He says before taking five sips of his really gross punch/vodka solution.

“Everyone,” Gina reads, “For every man you’ve kissed take a sip.”

Jake takes two sips, Amy takes three, Gina begins chugging, and Rosa finishes off the small amount left in their cup. The only one to abstain is Charles, who squints a bit at Jake at his response. 

“Jakey,” Gina says in a sing-song voice, “Now you must imitate Rosa in her gestures until you’re told otherwise.”

Jake sighs, “Why is does this feel like a Get Jake Drunk Game?”

“Idk girl,” she replies, “It’s the app.”

Jake looks at Rosa and then leans back on the floor, crossing his arms and frowning, glaring at everyone in what he hopes is a very Rosa-like way.

“‘Damaging effects of getting drunk’,” Gina reads, “first person to repeat themselves or can’t think of anything drinks 4 times. Amy starts.”

“Uh,” Amy says, “saying things you don’t mean, slurring your speech, not being able to walk straight, hangovers,” she begins looking stressed, listing her things on her fingers, “dancing with people you don’t know, puking, telling the truth, emailing your prof a meme at four am to which he replied ‘lol’. Apparently being spacey, being loud-”

“You know what,” Gina says, “I’m gonna stop you right there you’re a bit too aware of the consequences of drinking. Okay, Charles has three minutes of immunity from drinking. Give your liver a rest buddy.”

“Thank you,” he says, placing his cup on the floor and making a prayer gesture with his now-free hands. He’s the only one who hasn’t had to do anything yet and Jake feels ripped off.

“Everyone: you must now use at least one curse word in every sentence.”

“Fucking right,” Rosa says, grinning. She’s clearly in her element

“Jake, damn,” Gina reads, adding the swear for flourish, “You can stop imitating Rosa.”

He relaxes.

“Those without Instagram, drink five times.”

Everyone looks at Amy.

“I have one,” Amy says, realizing she has to swear she continues: “Uh I have a fucking instagram.”

“Wait really?” Jake asks.

Gina clears her throat, Jake takes a sip as punishment. Amy opens her phone, clicking the app and showing them her study-themed instagram. Jake laughs, of course. He makes a mental note of her username so he could follow her later.

“Drink three times if you haven’t been to the dentist for more than a year.”

Jake meekly takes three sips.

“Ew Jake,” Amy reacts.

He shrugs, his student loan was barely enough to cover the cost of tuition let alone extra shit like  _ teeth.  _

“Ooh,” Gina squeals, “I get to choose whether Rosa or Amy must down it all. Everyone: say hello to four drink Amy”

Everyone glances at her as if it’s going to take effect immediately, but when it doesn’t they move on.

At a particularly sexual instruction regarding a mention of Rosa’s boobs, Amy just winks at Jake, he’s really not quite sure what to do with this information. (Is four drink Amy a bit of a perv? He files that information away for later.)


	13. Who's cuter?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake tries to be a gentleman and walk Amy home after the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. I'm currently waiting on the phone call which tells me whether or not I get to work at the newspaper next year. so i'm uper anxious rn. wish me luck guys!! let me know what you think of this chapter

Jake brings Amy some water and then she sobers up a bit. She’s thankful to avoid getting any higher on the Amy drunkenness scale. After awhile of them just hanging out they realize the party’s beginning to die down. They get invited to go to the bars, but Jake says no for the both of them. Amy's still blushing at the prospect of kissing Gina, kissing Jake, and the whole boob thing. She's ready to sleep right on the floor where she is but Jake told her she needs to finish the glass of water and he probably knows best right now.

Amy’s having vivid flashbacks to her first year of university when she joined the marching band. She was innocent in her love for her french horn but was very shocked when she discovered that it’s basically a glorified drinking club. Almost every practice ended with alcohol involved and once she was instructed to attend their initiation party with a condom, a roll of toilet paper, and her phone number and address written in sharpie on her leg. Amy was half tempted to write an expose about the hazing. That was until she found out that as a member of said band she has signed a confidentiality agreement and is barred from discussing it with outsiders. So yeah, Amy low key joined a cult but that’s okay because she’s still alive. The flashbacks are due to Gina periodically refilling her cup, which is exactly what the upper years do at band practice. Amy’s fine (sort of) because she knows how to keep track, able to know exactly what drink she’s on. And Amy knows that she's definitely done for the night. 

As she sobers up she begins thinking about Jake. It doesn’t help that he’s being so good about it. She asked for them to be friends and he’s doing so well. They had to kiss and he looked so hurt when she pulled away because of that night. Oh god that night. Jake is so hot and now all she wants to do is go back to that morning and tell herself to shut up and kiss him again. She feels so guilty. She was an idiot. An anxious idiot who thought being friends was better, but she was so wrong. So so wrong. Being friends was agony when she just wanted him, and his arms around her, and his lips on hers. She wants to apologize and beg for him to take her back. 

Does she deserve it? She was so bad to him. But she was scared. Scared of him and scared of herself and scared of having something real. There is so much to be afraid of with Jake, so much that can go wrong. She could hurt him.  _ She has already hurt him. _

She and Jake talk about heading home, especially after everyone leaves. They are left with some chill music playing from the other room. Very drunk Amy doesn’t want to leave, this house feeling a lot more like her home than her dorm room does. She certainly spends more time here.

They begin to talk about anything and everything, finding out more and more about each other’s interests and thoughts. Amy doesn’t quite remember the next day but she totally admits to things she shouldn’t’ve. (Hungover Jake the next day doesn’t remember either so it’s ok.) This part of the night is certainly a bit of a blur and she’s glad for the water the next morning. She gets to a point where she’s made a decision to make this better. She was going to fix it.

“We should probably go to bed now,” Amy says, yawning, “It’s getting super late.”

Jake lays back on the couch, arms behind his head and closes his eyes dramatically, physically announcing his plans to sleep on the couch.

“No Jake,” she says, raising her finger and tries (and fails) to be serious. “We can’t sleep here!”

“I’ve had fantastic naps here, Ames.”

“I bet! But we should really go,” she says, grabbing his hands and pulling him up. 

When he’s on his feet, Amy discovers that this move has placed him right in front of her. She really means right in front of her, like, their hands are still clasped together, and Amy’s feet are right between Jake’s. This means that their chests are brushing, and Amy could just stand on her toes for a second and bring their lips together. It would be so easy. They were right there. And they had just kissed earlier. 

But he steps back. 

“I’ll walk you home,” he says, in a haughty and over dramatic tone.

“Jake, we live in the same building.

“I’ll… uh… walk you to your door?”

She keeps his hand and they walk down the stairs, and out the door. Amy uses her key to lock up, still not letting go of his hand. He looks so happy and Amy feels giddy. Maybe this is it. On their way home Amy will apologize and tell him she likes him so much and maybe they can go back to her room.

They take about ten steps down the path leading up to the house. They barely make it to the sidewalk, before they hear a loud boom of thunder. They look up just in time to get hit with a tremulous wave of freezing, pouring rain. 

Amy screams and they run back under the porch, hiding from the water before it has the chance to seep through their clothes. For a brief, romantic second Amy considers pulling him back into the storm and kissing him passionately like in the movie Kylie made her watch the other night. But she doesn’t because even drunk off her ass Amy is very sensible and spending any time out in this weather will get them both sick. Especially as they’re both only in t-shirts and pants. 

Jake follows right after her, shaking his head once he’s safe, spraying the extra water onto her as they balk at the thunderstorm in front of them. She squeals as she’s hit by the water droplets. The sheets of rain are illuminated by the streetlight, and the whole scene chills them to the bone at the thought of stepping foot out there again.

“I don’t have an umbrella,” Amy laughs, “Or a rain jacket.”

“What do we do?” Jake looks around. 

“We could get a cab?”

“I don’t have my wallet,” Jake says, “I didn’t plan on going anywhere after this.”

“I left my bag at home,” Amy says, “wanna go back inside?” 

She doesn’t really see another option, and they have a house right behind them. Well, it’s more of an office than a house and from outside they could pretend it was. It was a long walk back from here and they’d be drenched.

“Yeah.” 

Amy listens to the sound of the pouring rain for a second more before unlocking the door for them. The world is spinning a little, and she realizes that she’s drunk and her plan to talk to jake is a little more complicated now.

“We could wait it out?” Jake proposes once they’re safe inside, the rain pelting the roof with water. “Or have a super cute sleepover in our office? We could build a fort.”

+

After they dry off using an extremely questionable kitchen hand towel, Amy retrieves a blanket she keeps under her desk for emergencies and they decide to return to the couch room and wait for the storm to calm down. Jake, still quite intoxicated and disappointed by the lack of fort making materials, leaps onto the couch and jumps a couple times. He misjudged it and finds himself barely moving up and down on the decidedly not bouncy surface. 

“God you’re hyperactive,” Amy tuts, sitting next to him.  

“Don’t forget about attention deficit,” Jake replies with a wink, plopping down.

Amy pauses, “Wait what?”

Jake winces. She watches as he braces himself for the Serious Santiago Voice (all rights reserved). She sits next to him on their really lumpy couch. He’s silhouetted by the streetlight shining through the blinds. 

“Uh,” Jake murmurs, reaching his hand to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was diagnosed in high school, dunno what took them so long.’”

Amy frowns.

Jake laughs, “Funny story to tell my counselor at academic success services.”

“Who do you see?” Amy asks conversationally, relaxing into the couch, “Christina is my girl.”

Jake pauses, scrunching his eyebrows together. Amy’s gone and done the same thing, dropped a small bomb and hoped he’d roll with it. She hopes that he decides that rolling is the best option. She can’t help but see the similarities between the two of them.

“Martha,” Jake says, with a small grin, “She says that she’s surprised I function. What are you in for?”

“Anxiety,” Amy replies.

“Classic,” he says with a wink.

They drop the topic, as its a bit heavy for the amount of alcohol currently passing through their livers. Amy looks at her phone. It’s almost 4am. Jake lies back against the couch, and forms a burrito with the blanket. Lucky for them Amy’s always cold. Unlucky for him that means she’s currently tugging the blanket, trying to unwrap him from his self-made burrito. 

He giggles as Amy decides that tickling him is the best way to free him, leaving him squealing and laughing, kicking away from her and trying to catch his breath. He falls back onto his couch, letting her take the blankets from him. The room spins and he puts her hand to his head to steady himself. She can tell that he really is drunk, like she is. 

Amy adjusts the blankets, she moves closer as she puts his half of the blanket onto him. She is quite aware how close they are. Their heads resting against each other, sharing warmth. Just like the night of the power outage.

“Why’d you start writing for the Gazette,” Jake asks her softly.

“I read it a lot in first year,” Amy says, she hasn’t talked about this in awhile. The Brooklyn Gazette feeling like it’s always been with her, even though she’s only been at college for just over two years. “Right after I got accepted here I read it online, I wanted to know what kinda school I had gotten myself into. It’s important to be informed. So in first year I emailed and asked if they needed anyone to contribute. A month later they had me writing a couple articles a month and here I am. It feels good. It’s like I’m a part of something. What about you, Jake?”

“Charles interviewed me for one of his articles back in first year. I didn’t even know we had a newspaper. And when I applied for my job I didn’t think I was qualified. I didn’t even have a portfolio,” Jake laughs, remembering it. “I was sure I bombed the interview too, I walked out of it convinced I didn’t have the job. I had accepted my fate. When I got the call, I was on a bus and I remember asking if it was a joke.”

Amy laughs, wondering what Jake isn’t infinitely sure of himself like the one she sees every day. She has to admit, Jake does solid work and the paper is better off with him. But that’s not something she’ll say out loud, just yet

Amy’s phone buzzes, and she reads the texts in a way that Jake can see them from over her shoulder. Kylie, Amy’s best friend and roommate texted her. 

 

Kylie: hey im getting worried!! u gonna come home or r u hooking up with the cute film guy?? its super stormy out get a cab if u rnt

Amy: What cute film guy?

Amy: I’m actually sleeping at the house.

_ (Amy works hard typing these messages, even drunk Amy believes it’s important to use proper grammar). _

Kylie: ur sleeping with that video boy at the gaztte house??? omg. get ittt babee

Amy: NEXT to him. Jake. Not sleeping with. We’re waiting out the storm.

Kylie: for now at least!!! ;)))) have fun keep me updated

Kylie: dpnt forget abotut that condom i put in ur bag for special occasions

Kylie: its next to ur protractor & math set 

 

Then Amy realizes that Jake is reading her texts and begins laughing.

“Hey,” Amy turns her phone off, punching him lightly in the shoulder, scolding him for reading over her shoulder. 

 

+

“So Ames,” Jake says, “I’m cute?”

He decides not to mention the for-special-occasions condom.

“No,” Amy says quickly, a little too quickly, which instantly becomes evidence that she means just the opposite. 

“You think I’m cute!” Jake says, “Oh em gee, I’m gonna tell everyone. I’m cute!”

She shushes him, putting her hand over his mouth to physically force him to stop talking about it. She’s blushing and he’s pretty sure she doesn’t know that he can tell. The rosy flush of her cheeks is visible in the streetlight-lit room.

Okay. Maybe Jake thinks Amy’s cute too. But she doesn’t need know that now. (She probably already does).

He licks her hand that is pressed against his mouth and she squeals, ripping her hand off, and looking appalled that he would dare  _ lick  _ her.

Next thing he knows she’s ticking him again, and he retaliates, but apparently all of Amy’s brothers must have served her well in the long run because she seems to be absolutely immune to tickling. No matter if he’s grabbing at her waist, or tickling her armpits he barely gets a reaction out of her. She doesn’t even squeal, she’s just laughs at him as he panics. He gives up, and focuses on defence, trying to move farther and farther from her hands. And suddenly after what seems to be hours of endless torture, yelling for mercy, she relents. 

The issue is, she’s now straddling him and his thudding heart is sending all of his blood rushing south. She’s got his arms pinned above his head and her face is inches from him as she breathes heavily. She looks triumphant. She’s defeated him and looks so proud of herself. It’s so hot.

They’re both breathing hard and Jake can feel her weight over him.  He starts trying to think some Wholesome Thoughts™ because he cannot live to have anything weird happen. Because she told him they should be friends and he accepts that. Friendship is fine! But wholesome thoughts turn back into Amy because she’s super professional and super appropriate but what’s happening is not professional and appropriate. Amy is  _ straddling him in their office.  _ Oh my god Holt sits on this couch. 

But also oh my god Amy is so close to him!!! He can feel her breath on his lips and oh my god those lips are really close and she looks at him like she’s asking permission to kiss him and he nods slightly and leans in and oh my god Amy Santiago is kissing him for real. 

Amy tastes like alcohol, but his head is spinning and if he wasn’t already horizontal he’d be falling over at the sheer thought of this. The thing is, it isn’t a thought, it’s happening and his hands are now on her waist and her hands are moving through his curls. Her lips are so soft and they move so sweetly across his. She’s kissing him because she wants to and not because of some stupid game and that makes this all so much better. (Jake is a sucker for enthusiastic consent, it’s one of his kinks). His blood is thudding through his veins and he doesn’t want this to stop. 

But then it does because Amy pulls away, and it’s okay because she’s looking at him with her eyes so wide and she’s smiling and it’s really nice.

“Jake,” she whispers, “I don’t think we should just be friends. I was wrong.”

Amy sits up, pulling him with her. Her legs are around his and she’s still in his lap and that’s a-ok because he pulls her into another kiss. Her mouth opens and now they’re making out, lips sliding against each other, trying to get closer and closer. He moves his hand up and he caresses her face, desperately to feel the contours of her jaw. One of her hands is around his waist and the other tugs at his hair, which makes his knees go weak. 

_ She was wrong,  _ her words echo in his mind.  _ She doesn’t think they should just be friends. _ Amy wants to be more than friends. Jake wants to be more than friends. They can be more than friend  _ together. _

This time Jake pulls back to look at her. She looks better than she’s ever looks. Her lips are red, and her breaths are heavy. She smiles, a knowing smile that reaches her eyes. Amy tilts her head at him as he stares, and tucks her hair behind her ears. 

“Jake,” Amy says after the heavy silence, “I do think you’re cute.”

“I think you’re cuter,” Jake says dumbly in response.

Amy bursts into laughter and he thinks it sounds like what he wants to hear for the rest of his life. 


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, here's the conclusion of this story. i started it to kinda make sense of my own feelings of love for the student paper that i work for, but have really changed throughout the process to the point of this being almost weird to share. its taken over my world in a really special way. i just found out i was rehired a couple days ago, which means another year of it. i even have my own assistant now. its been a great year, and i'm glad youve enjoyed my fictional version so much

The next thursday, Amy looks up from writing her second article of the night. It’s looking to be another busy press day and it’s only 5pm. She had to attend this weeks student senate meeting. Usually she tries to get one of her assistants or a contributor to do it for her but they all flaked. Typical. 

She hasn’t seen Jake since Sunday when they had an editorial board. It went well. Better than if they hadn’t talked since, well, since their impromptu sleepover. He saved her a spot on the couch. Their couch. The place on which she woke up to the feeling of being wrapped in his arms for the second time, but didn’t panic. She turned around and kissed him. She wanted him to know that she wasn’t going to run away this time, she was done with running and being scared.

Ever since he’s been keeping her more than up to date with his life and his thoughts. (He thinks she’s cute and he also thinks it’s cute that she thinks he’s cute). They have cemented a five day snapchat streak that Jake seems to have a strong emotional connection to. They haven’t really had a chance to see each other since Sunday, as this week has been taxing on both their schedules. Amy’s been swamped with her classes and Jake has been running around working on his videos, both barely having time to eat and sleep to see each other. But all week they’ve been texting pretty consistently. One night Jake called her and they got to talk for a few minutes before bed. 

She tries to take a sip of her coffee but as she tilts the cup back, she discovers that it’s gone. She sighs, looking out the window and wondering if better coffee is worth a trek down the street rather than to the machine downstairs. 

She hasn’t even made it to copying anything into inDesign yet. She’s still working on random files on microsoft word. It’s a sad sign for how long she’s going to be here tonight. 

For a fleeting moment she remembers her younger, more naive self, who thought reporting news for the student newspaper would be hard hitting journalism. In reality she’s reporting about campus politics, local politics, and other monotonous stuff. It  _ is _ relevant to the student life, but it’s definitely not crime reporting, or international politics, or anything like that. The most exciting thing she did this week was attend a panel with the mayor on rules and regulations about Uber in the area. 

She rubs her eyes and tries to stare at her screen, the article about student senate blurring together through her dry contact lenses.  It might be a glasses night and everyone she works with knows what that means. 

She looks up as she hears a sound, which is Jake Peralta putting a coffee on her desk, and plopping down on the chair that has taken up permanent residence next to hers. He’s sipping a coffee of his own, and opening the lid to his laptop, slyly not saying a word, a dramatic effort to not distract her, which he knows he’s already doing by being here. He promised earlier that when he visited he wouldn’t make a peep and here he is, true to his word.

“Jake,” Amy finds her face light up at the sight of him, and coffee, normally she’d say mostly the coffee and maybe a little bit of him but after what happened that weekend she’s admitting that maybe there’s some joy in seeing him.

It’s also the first time that he knows he’s on the receiving end of that joy, rather than disdain and or mild acceptance. They’re lucky they aren’t in direct competition. If Jake had any actual on-paper job here they’d probably still be at each other's throats. And not in a sexy way. 

“Amy,” he acknowledges her with a small salute which personally makes her feel quite toasty inside. He gestures to his backpack, “I also have an apple fritter that will keep for eleven pm when you get hungry after the take out wears off. Speaking of which, do you think we’ll order chinese food or thai tonight? Speaking of speaking of which do you wanna maybe go on a date with me tomorrow? No biggie if you say no I just wanna go out on a date with you and thought maybe-”

“Yes!” Amy says cutting him off. He almost looks surprised but then he breaks into a grin. She puts her laptop on her desk, and pushes her chair so that it’s right next to his. She leans in, and careful not to knock his coffee, she hugs him. It’s soothing after the stress of this week, and the stress of the one before. He has this warmth about him that just makes everything feel ok. She leans back and he pulls her into a kiss. She feels a wave of affection flowing through her. She can’t get enough of him.

“Tomorrow,” Jake says, once the kiss is over. “Charles gave me advice on where to go so we’re not doing that because whatever he’d choose would be really weird. So I have a plan and it’s going to be super cool. Even cooler because I’m gonna be there and I’m cute.”

Amy rolls her eyes. He also admitted to finding her cute and so they were even. Despite that Jake looks super proud of himself and she shrugs. She’ll let him have it because he’s cute and she likes him. And they have a date. Tomorrow. 

“Is it a surprise?” she asks. 

“Yup!” Jake says, “So Ames, we never actually came up with consequences for that bet of ours. You know, the one that I’m gonna win because the video section is obviously the best and most popular one of the Gazette.”

“Actually,” Amy counters, “I think that’s exactly what our bet is supposed to determine. Which section is better.”

“So since the semester is almost over, I say the loser gets to plan our next date. I say that because we should probably step up our game. I mean, we’re both, like, awesome, and grimy makeouts on the office couch is probably not the classiest way to start this off.” 

“Didn’t you just plan a date? Like for tomorrow. Does that make you the loser by default?”

“No, obviously not,” Jake says, “Because I’m going on a date with you, Amy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @gravelyhumerus


End file.
